Turn the Page
by cherry-sodas
Summary: Darry Curtis said he would make the wedding cake himself. [A lot can happen in the fourteen days leading up to Darry Curtis's wedding. AU. Embedded into the 'Arrogance and Aggression' universe.]
1. Chapter 1

**This story, which takes place about a year after 'See My Friends' ends, is the final chapter in the 1965 – 1970 series, focusing largely on the relationship between Dallas Winston and Lucy Bennet. It is situation in the 'Arrogance and Aggression' universe, and each story connects. They can be ready in any order, but this story comes off the immediate heels of the drama in that story.**

**You might also want to read my one shot, "Curious," for some context in this chapter, but it's not a must.**

**Finally, the froth that percolated throughout 'Arrogance and Aggression' and 'Impatience and Impulsivity' comes back a little bit here! It's a parting gift to this epoch in the series.**

* * *

Darry Curtis said he would make the wedding cake himself.

In June 1969, he took his girl, Lynnie Jones, out to dinner on the _other side of town_. They shared a plate of baked ziti, Lynnie's favorite food, and as they took a walk outside before heading back home, Darry got down on one knee and proposed.

Lynnie Jones, of course, was quick to accept. She had been married before, when she was nineteen years old, and her previous husband (Big Jim, which should have been a clue from the start – what twenty-year-old kid goes by Big Jim?) left her for his secretary like a cliché. But Darry was different. He was a family man, through and through. He worked hard to provide for his loved ones, including his brothers and sister, who was married with her own son. Darry was the kind of man that a girl like Lynnie dreamt about. Her son, Jimmy, who was four at the time, was absolutely enchanted with him. She didn't even need to think about it when she saw him kneeling there, his mother's ring in his hand. It was too easy to say yes.

But when Darry insisted on baking his own wedding cake, no one was angrier than Lucy Bennet. Lucy and Lynnie were cousins, and when they were growing up, they were almost as close as sisters. Lucy knew how much a wedding a man she loved meant to Lynnie, and she wouldn't stand for a homemade chocolate cake. They fought about it on May 1, 1970 – exactly two weeks before Darry and Lynnie were slated to marry.

"That don't make any sense," Darry said. "You always loved my cakes, Lucy. What makes this wedding any different?"

"What makes it different is that it's _my cousin's wedding_," Lucy said. "And this one's going to be forever."

"Gee, thanks," Lynnie said.

"You know I meant that to be nice."

"Did ya?" Dallas Winston asked. He was Lucy's husband, with whom he would celebrate his fifth anniversary that November. "'Cause I'm pretty sure I know you, Bennet, and you almost never mean to be nice."

"No, but her niceness sure is mean," Lynnie said, grinning at her own ability to pun. "You see? Sometimes, I can have fun with language, too."

"You're a regular James Joyce," Lucy said.

"I think I'd prefer to be Gertrude Stein."

As Lucy laughed, Darry asked, "Can we have a conversation that allows people who _didn't _go to college and get a degree in English to join?"

"Oh, I don't have a degree in English," Lynnie said. "You knew that, honey. I have a degree in education. That's why I teach the littler ones."

"And I don't have a degree in English yet," Lucy said. "Talk to me tomorrow. I'll be able to do a lot of bragging then."

Dally couldn't help but smile at his wife – his truly formidable wife. Back in 1965, he and Lucy had gotten married on a dare posed to them by Sodapop and Sadie Curtis, a pair of mischievous twins and two of Lucy's closest friends in the world (and, though he'd never admit it, even after years of being close to them, two of Dally's closest friends as well). About a year later, Lucy got pregnant with their daughter, Elenore, who had recently celebrated her third birthday. All the while, Lucy had kept up excellent grades, and the next day, she would walk across the stage to receive her diploma. She would officially have a degree in English, like her father before her – everything she ever wanted. But there was more. In August, Lucy and Dally would pack up their apartment above Great Books, where they'd lived since their first Christmas as a married couple, and they would move to New York City. Lucy had been accepted as a doctoral student at NYU, and while everyone in the old neighborhood was thrilled for her, they weren't as thrilled to watch her pack up a moving van and take it far away.

"Ah, congratulations, Lucy!" Lynnie said. "I'm sorry if we don't seem more excited. We're … you know. Planning."

"Believe me, I understand," Lucy said. "Although maybe I don't. I never actually had a wedding."

"What?" Dally asked. "You didn't like our wedding?"

"I'd hardly call walking down to the court house in our most casual attire while Two-Bit serenaded us to an off-key rendition of 'Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me' a wedding. Would you?"

"Maybe not. But look at it this way. If I'd dropped a bunch of pretty-lookin' dimes on a wedding for you and all your friends, would we be able to move ourselves all the way over to New York for your new school?"

Lucy smiled, but her heart dropped at the same time. Just like on cue, she saw her best friend, Sadie Curtis Cade, walk up the front porch with Michael, her one-year-old son, in her arms. There were a lot of things Lucy would miss about living in Tulsa, but among them, Sadie was the one she would miss the most. The two women hadn't talked very much about what would change between them when Lucy was living on the East Coast. Instead, they liked to pretend like everything would stay the same. In a way, it would. But in more ways … they could not possibly even imagine.

Sadie knocked on the door, and Darry happily let her in. As she politely greeted everyone around her, Lucy immediately sensed that she was nervous about something. Sadie was nervous, but she didn't want anyone to know. For Lucy, that could only mean one thing. She took a step back and let it happen the way it needed to. This was one of those times when involving herself would make things much worse. Lucy used to involve herself all the time when she was a teenager – like she was the center of the universe. Then, she thought about Elenore, who was currently playing with her grandparents a few blocks away. She thought about baby Michael, too. Lucy was not the center of the universe, and neither was Sadie.

But their children were.

"Me and Michael were just out for a long walk," Sadie said.

"A lady and a baby out on their own?" Dally asked. "I dunno, Sadie. That seem like a good idea to you?"

"Dally's got a point," Darry said. "Ya might run into him from five years ago."

"It's very possible."

"It is," Lynnie agreed. "Pony's not here right now, but he makes me watch this English TV show sometimes. They go back and forth in time a lot. Who's to say Dally won't be out there waiting for you?"

"Because Dally's in here, wanting to get back to his kid," Sadie said. "And I'm not crazy, but thanks for the game."

"Any time."

Sadie rolled her eyes. It was only halfway playful. She liked Lynnie, for the most part. She was a nice woman who made a formidable lemon meringue pie and made Darry very happy. Lynnie was clever and well read, much like Sadie herself. There was no reason for Sadie _not _to like Lynnie. But then, of course, she remembered that Lynnie lived in her childhood home, cooked in the kitchen where her mother used to cook, and tidied up the bedroom where Sadie used to sleep. She remembered that Lynnie was Lucy's biological cousin, so no matter how many times Lucy would assure Sadie that the two of them were sisters by choice, it didn't matter. She would always have that blood connection with Lynnie. It was the kind of blood connection Sadie worried about the older she became.

"Me and Michael were in the neighborhood," Sadie said. "We're bored 'cause Johnny's at work, and I got the day off."

But Darry knew that wasn't all. He could tell by the way Sadie's eyes strained past the living room and down the hallway. He almost said something, and then Sadie did it for him.

"Is he home?" she asked.

Darry shook his head, and it just about shattered his heart. Whenever Sadie came to visit her childhood home now, it was just so that she could see Sodapop, even for a little while. Unfortunately, Soda wasn't around quite as much as he was before he'd shipped out. It was like being in the house was too much for him. Too much past, perhaps.

The thought of Soda in pain shattered Sadie's heart, too, but she made sure no one in the room could hear it. Well, almost no one. Lucy winced in pain when she saw the look on her best friend's face. She winced again when she remembered there was really nothing anybody could do about it.

"No, baby, he ain't," Darry said.

Sadie's eyes filled with panic, as they often did now that she was a mother … as they often did now that she was the twin sister of a brand-new war veteran.

"But did he …" she started. It was hard to get her breath, thinking about what Soda been through before. "Did he call?"

Darry nodded, and nearly all of the tension rushed out of Sadie's body (and Michael's and Lucy's as well).

"After his shift," Darry said. "He and Steve went out for a beer."

Sadie nodded in some sort of acknowledgment and approval. For a moment, she'd forgotten that she and Soda had been twenty-one years old since October, and it was more than legal and acceptable for him to grab a beer with his best friend after a long shift at the DX. Both of them had earned it. Still, Sadie worried. She remembered how sick and sad Soda had been on that night he got drunk when they were fifteen, shortly after their parents' accident. She didn't want to see that happen to her twin again. Evidently, she knew Soda, and he only turned to substances like cigarettes and alcohol when he felt like things were spiraling beyond his control. Now that he was a veteran, he was quickly realizing that more things were out of his control than he previously thought possible. Sadie tried not to be worried. She tried not to be worried that there were suddenly things that Soda wasn't telling her. She wondered just how long it had been going on that way. She wondered if she was the only one he was keeping in the dark.

The thought would have been funny if it wasn't so painfully true.

"Right," she finally said.

But she was disappointed. How could she not have known, automatically, whether or not Soda was in the house? She used to be able to sense him from miles away. It scared people sometimes, including Jane, and she loved to trail after Soda even more than his sister did. Now, he was a blur, caught up in the scent of grief, regret, and guilt, just like the rest of them. Sadie wished she could end his pain and confusion, but she knew better now. It wasn't her place, even if she was his twin sister.

She held Michael closer and flopped down on the couch, which Michael didn't seem to mind at all. She looked at Darry and frowned.

"I used to be so good at this," Sadie said.

It was all she knew how to say, and it was enough.

"He'll be home soon," Lynnie offered, and Sadie glared at her with such intensity, it felt like she was going to burn a hole right between Lynnie's eyes. At first, Lynnie didn't notice. She prattled on.

"Jane's due back from her shift at Jay's in less than an hour," Lynnie said. "He doesn't like to miss any time with Jane."

Eventually, when the room turned equal parts hot and ice-cold, Lynnie saw the expression on Sadie's face. It made her heart sink. Before Soda had returned home from Vietnam, Lynnie and Sadie seemed to get along just fine. Then again, perhaps _getting along just fine _and _not seeing each other very often _were two concepts that Lynnie was confusing. She cleared her throat and stood up from her seat on the couch – the seat that was normally Soda's, especially now that he was home.

"I'm gonna go check on Jimmy," Lynnie said. "He's been playing alone for a long time, and I think he'd like some company."

And so, Lynnie took off – took off for the room that used to belong to Sadie. She became very conscious of that fact on her way in, but she didn't say anything. These days, saying anything to Sadie about the way things used to be seemed like a disaster waiting to happen (or perhaps even a disaster that was already happening).

Since Soda's return, things in the Curtis family had changed _rapidly _and without much warning. Though Sadie was thrilled for herself and her siblings, there were moments she found herself wishing to cling to the past. When things were new and different, they were terrifying and odd, too. In March, she and Johnny had celebrated their second wedding anniversary, and in April, they celebrated Michael's first birthday. Though they only lived a few minutes away from Sadie's brothers, it still felt like an ocean was between them.

Soda's return had brought love and life back into the house and into the neighborhood; it had also brought change from which the family could never return. Before Soda returned, Sadie had given birth to Michael, who was suddenly the center of her universe. The feeling was bizarre, as for all her life up to that point, Sadie was the center of her own universe – Sadie and Soda against the world, that was. Things were different after Michael was born. She no longer felt compelled to return to the old Curtis house and build a fort of blankets in the living room with her twin brother, not letting anyone else inside unless they came with plates of food and the promise that they would leave right away. In fact, now that Sadie was Michael Cade's mother, she didn't think very much about needing to be with Soda at all. She didn't have time. And now, being back in her childhood home, even for a moment or two, those feelings of guilt for not thinking enough about her veteran twin brother were coming up and trying to pierce her heart. She wouldn't let them. Michael was in her arms, and in an hour, he would be hungry.

"He won't be long," Darry said. "You wanna sit around and wait for him?"

"Yeah," Lucy suggested. "You and I haven't caught up in awhile. I'd like it if you stayed."

"You like her better than me," Dally said.

"Of course I do. That goes without saying. Sadie, do you like me better than Johnny?"

"Obviously."

Dally frowned, and off his look, Sadie added, "It's nothin' personal. Me and Lucy swore to each other back in 1962 that we would always like each other better than our boyfriends and husbands. In Lucy's defense, I don't think anybody ever thought you would be Lucy's boyfriend, much less her husband."

"Who _did _you think would be Lucy's husband?" Darry asked.

"Some professor of sorts," Sadie said. "A prince, maybe."

"A prince who tutored other princes," Lucy said. "But I … I like how it ended."

Dally rolled his eyes. It was all in good nature.

Sadie eyed Lucy and Dally curiously. She knew that her next question would sound accusatory, and in a way, it would be. That didn't change the fact that she was going to ask it.

"What are the two of you doing here, anyway?" she asked. "You don't live here."

"Neither do you," Dally said.

Sadie clicked her tongue. She used to.

"We dropped by to give your brother a hard time about this whole wedding cake thing," Lucy said. "He insists on making his own cake for his own wedding."

"So what?" Sadie asked. "Darry makes great cake. I think that's how he and Lynnie met. Remember? She used it as an excuse to get Jimmy to talk to him, which was her own excuse to talk to him. It was a very weird thing."

Darry blushed. He knew Sadie was a little bit out of line. In fact, for the past two years, Sadie had been a little bit out of line. He'd hoped in that time that she would learn how to behave more politely again, but he also knew he had no right to tell her what to do. Sadie was twenty-one years old. She was a wife and a mother – an adult. For Darry, that was perhaps the scariest thought of them all. He'd regarded his siblings as children for far too long. They were not the young ones anymore.

"Well, Lynnie's my cousin," Lucy said. "And I want her Darry wedding to be the one that counts. So, I'm insisting that he listens. My parents are going to pay for a professional cake."

"Do we get to choose the flavor?" Darry asked.

"Of course," Lucy said. "It's your wedding."

"Darry!" Sadie said, which startled baby Michael in her arms. "You can't seriously take handouts from the Bennets. Remember when they tried to offer us their old couch since they were getting a new one? We don't just take gifts. We earn stuff!"

"Sadie, it's a wedding," Lucy said. "Weddings beget gifts. It's a time-honored tradition."

"One nobody took part in for us," Dally said.

"I think that has something to do with the whole 'high school, court house, married-on-a-dare' thing."

"Ya bring up a good point. Not a great point, but a good one."

Sadie wanted to say something – _anything _– in response, but she didn't have the time. The door opened, and in walked Jane Randle. Only she wasn't Jane Randle, per se. At any rate, she was Jane.

Jane was one of the bigger changes to come out of Soda's return in the spring of 1969. After a year of writing her letters about how he couldn't wait to marry her when he returned home, months went by, and he never mentioned marriage when she was in the room. He was even cautious to mention Darry and Lynnie's engagement in front of her. No one asked him why, but no one particularly had to. They all knew the answer. Soda hadn't been quite … right … after he returned from Vietnam. Where Steve had gotten angrier and more violent, and Two-Bit had gotten quieter and more dependent on alcohol, Soda … well, it seemed Soda had gotten younger. Suddenly, it was like the only person he could connect to was Elenore Winston, a true toddler in her own right. He never talked about work. He never talked about money. And, perhaps most shockingly, he never talked about marrying Jane.

Then, one day in July of 1969, Sadie got a phone call. It was Sodapop. Come down to the courthouse, Sadie Lou. I'm gettin' married, and you're my best woman.

And though Sadie stood by Soda that day and signed as a witness to his marriage, she couldn't help but feel terrible for Jane. Poor Jane had been madly in love with Sodapop since she was a little girl. This was not the wedding she imagined. She imagined an expensive dress (even if she had to rob a bank to get it). She imagined a spectacular reception. She imagined a cake that she was able to purchase herself, not accept from the Bennet family like a damn charity case. It wasn't like the Bennets were so rich. They were richer than the other families in the gang, but they weren't _loaded. _Dr. Bennet was a literature professor, not a brain surgeon, and they couldn't afford a house on the _other side of town_.

In the moment, Sadie shook her head. She might have been confusing a few of her resentments.

Ten months had passed since Jane and Soda got married, and in that time, Jane had finally found a way out of the old Randle house. She wondered if her father even noticed she was gone. Her mother certainly did, and though she felt somewhat confident that there were times her mother wanted to visit her, she knew that Jeannie Randle would be too tired at the end of the day. Jane tried not to hold that against her. Her mother did a lot of things, and now that Jane was turning twenty-one herself, her mother didn't have to worry about her anymore. That was the rule, or so it seemed.

After Jane moved out of her childhood home, she moved into Soda's bedroom at the Curtis place. Sadie tried not to think of it as Jane replacing her. She wasn't. After all, Sadie was his twin, and Jane was his girl – his _wife_. They weren't the same thing, even if it did feel (sometimes) like Sadie was married to Jane, too. Sadie had no right to be jealous of Jane. And, in truth, she wasn't. She just wasn't sure how well she could really handle all the changes in her family.

She tried to tell herself that was the only thing she was upset about – all the changes among her and her three brothers. There was nothing else Sadie could possibly have to feel angry or sad or scared about – nothing at all.

"Sadie!" Jane said when she saw her sister-in-law and nephew in the house (the house where she now lived … the house that was now, sentimentally, hers). "I wasn't expectin' you!"

"None of us were," Darry said. "She's a pleasant surprise."

"That's me," Sadie said. "But Michael and I were really just leaving. He's going to get hungry before I know it, and I don't really want to feed him in a strange place."

"But this ain't really much of a strange place," Jane said. "He's eaten here before, ain't he? I know he has."

"Well …"

"Sadie, if you're shy about the people in this house seein' your boobs, I think you're a little late for that."

Sadie turned scarlet. What gave Jane the right?

"I just don't want him to feel like he doesn't know where he is," Sadie said. It wasn't a very good answer, but it was an answer nonetheless. She hoped it would be enough for Jane and her prying (as though anything ever really was).

For a moment, it was almost like Sadie wasn't talking about Michael at all. Jane knew it, and she tried to make it better (by making it more awkward).

"You should stay," she said. "Steve and Soda are due back here any minute. I know Soda would love to see ya."

_I know Soda would love to see ya_. On the inside, Sadie Lou Curtis Cade was rolling her eyes. What did Jane know about what Soda wanted? They were married, but that didn't mean they could hear each other's thoughts. Only twins could do that. No matter how hard Jane tried, she could never get to that level of intimacy with her own husband.

If Sadie had been in a better mood (If Lucy hadn't been in the room, reminding her how things were really going to change in the next few months.), she probably wouldn't have been thinking that way. But she was scared and sad and unsure of where to unleash it, so she chose Jane. Jane was a safe person to be angry at. She loved so deeply that she forgave quickly. As her sister-in-law, Sadie was one person Jane was especially quick to forgive. Being angry with Jane didn't pose a real risk. Being angry with Lucy was a death sentence. So, to protect her hide, Sadie convinced herself she wasn't angry with Lucy. She convinced herself that Lucy wasn't doing anything that could make her angry.

But then Lucy would begin to talk about Manhattan, and Sadie's rage would come right back up again. It was like she was trying to kill her. Of course, maybe if Lucy _did _kill Sadie, it would be just that much easier for her to leave Tulsa and the old neighborhood and never come back.

"It's OK, really," Sadie said. "I don't … Michael … I'll just see Soda later."

"You keep sayin' that," Darry said. "But he told me you ain't been hangin' out a lot lately."

"Well, we've both got shit to deal with. He's married. I'm married. I got a kid. He's got Jane."

"Are you callin' me a baby?" Jane asked.

"You keep askin' questions like that, it's gonna make sense," Dally said.

"Look, we've just been busy," Sadie said.

She felt very defensive, but she didn't quite know why. Maybe because Darry was right. Maybe because she knew, consciously or unconsciously, that she had been avoiding Sodapop for the past couple of months.

"Never stopped ya before," Jane said. "I swear, when Soda first got back home, it was like ya didn't leave each other's sides."

"Like Siamese twins," Darry agreed.

Lucy pointed a finger at him.

"That's racist," she said.

"How is that racist? It's what they're called."

"Still racist."

Dally wanted to say something to the effect of, "Yeah, Darry. Look at your nephew!" But he knew that, too, wouldn't have been the most sensitive thing to say. As a husband and a father to a three-year-old who thought he must have hung the moon, Dallas Winston had dedicated the last few years of his life trying to determine what was sensitive and what wasn't. Besides, it wouldn't have been an effective comment. Johnny Cade and his kid sister, Lilly, knew they weren't all white and that their ancestors were probably from somewhere in the vastness that was _Asia_, but they weren't certain. No one ever told them where they came from because no one bothered enough to talk to them as people – not when they were children, anyway. Johnny and Lilly both had eyes that didn't look the same as their snow-white friends (It felt odd to say lily-white, given Lilly was the only girl in the gang who wasn't.), but Michael's eyes were all Curtis. It was one of those strange things in life. Dally remembered how Johnny pulled him aside one day, a short while after Michael was first born, and confided in him. Johnny said he was _thrilled _that his son looked more like Sadie and the rest of the Curtis family. At first, Dally had assumed that was because Johnny was thankful for all the help and love the Curtises had given him … the help and love he didn't receive from his own folks in his own home. But then, Johnny told him the truth. The kids at school wouldn't pull on their eyes and make fun of Michael for looking "different." They wouldn't ridicule him the same way the kids used to ridicule Johnny and Lilly. He wouldn't ever be expected to sit in the balcony at the movie theater because he wasn't white enough to sit with the white kids. No one would ever know.

Dally had always been unsure of how to talk to Johnny about that, even now that he was growing up and into himself. Then again, he'd always been unsure of how to talk to Johnny about anything. That much had been clear since Michael was born. Dally didn't like to think about it.

"It's just difficult for us to hook up now," Sadie said. "We have different responsibilities, and we live _just _enough away from each other."

"But you spent a whole year oceans away from each other," Jane said. "Don't you want to … I don't know … close some of those oceans?"

Sadie was tempted to ask Jane when she became such an advocate for the closeness between the Curtis twins. The year Soda was in Vietnam, Jane had done nothing but complain and worry that Soda missed Sadie more than he missed her or that he loved Sadie more than he loved her. Maybe she thought of their marriage as a victory of sorts. She was tempted to say it, but she chose not to. Michael was in her arms, and she didn't want him to absorb any of her bad behavior and petty thinking.

"I do," Sadie said slowly, and she was telling the truth. "It's just harder now that things are different."

"'To these children, Gentlemen and Ladies will henceforth be two homelands toward which each of their souls will take flight on divergent wings,'" Lucy said.

Everyone in the room turned to look at her like she was insane, including Sadie, who typically followed Lucy's referential speech. Lucy wrinkled her nose, realizing that she wasn't actually writing a paper for her father's advanced critical theory class at TU.

"It's psychoanalysis stuff," Lucy said. "Cutting edge, actually. Don't worry about it."

"Hey, that's my girl," Dally said. "Ya know, that's the stuff that got her into that doctor program."

_The one that's taking me away_, Lucy thought.

_The one that's taking her away_, Sadie thought, too.

"What were we talking about before?" Darry asked.

"How you won't let my parents buy your wedding cake," Lucy said. "But then you agreed. Then Sadie got mad."

"I did not get mad!" Sadie objected, and Michael stirred in her arms. She sighed. She really needed to remember not to act up around him. Maybe the secret was not to go into her childhood home. If she was going to be a mother, then she could not be a child. Sitting in the same places where her own mother used to braid her hair and tend to her scabby knees after a long day at Crutchfield Park was not the best place to remember her new role in life.

She wondered what Frances Curtis would think of her now.

"You seem a little mad," Darry said. "D'you wanna go some place and talk about it?"

Sadie shook her head. The part of her that was a little mad (_very _mad) wanted to pull Darry into the backyard and cry into his shirt, just like she had the year that Soda was overseas. But now, what would she have to cry about? Before, she was barely twenty years old, very pregnant, and terrified that her twin wouldn't make it home after all. Now, she was older, a mother, and lived just a few blocks away from the twin she'd missed so much. It seemed like she had everything (or, at least, had everything resolved). What was she crying about now? She would have asked Lucy if this was how she felt that year when Elenore was turning two, but she didn't. Lucy had resolved to move forward, and moving forward (apparently) did not mean looking back.

"We really can't stay too long," Sadie said. "Michael's gonna get hungry, and I don't wanna feed him in a strange place."

"This shouldn't be a strange place for him," Jane said. "I feel like you're here enough."

"Not as often as she used to be," Darry said.

"Would y'all shut _up _about how often I'm here or not here?" Sadie asked. "I've got my own life and my own family to worry about these days. I don't need to hang out in the same place where I used to pee the bed."

"You ain't the one who peed the bed," a new voice joined in on the conversation from the front door. "But I appreciate you tryin' to take the fall for me."

Sadie turned around to find her kid brother, Ponyboy, in the doorway. He was hand in hand with Carrie Shepard, whom he finally asked out on a proper date as their first year at TU drew to a close. They'd been steadies for some time already (and, really, had been since Ponyboy was about fourteen or fifteen), and Carrie now spent more time at the Curtis house than she already did. She was another change that Sadie wasn't sure how well she could abide. It wasn't that she wasn't happy for Pony and Carrie. They'd spent years trying to get it right. It was that everyone seemed to make themselves at home in Sadie's home, which wasn't her home anymore. She didn't recognize anything there. It wasn't clear who said you couldn't go home again, but whoever it was, they were righter than rain. Sadie was lost in hallways and bedrooms she had memorized.

"Hey, Pony," Sadie said. "Let me ask you a question. Do you think our brother Darry should let Lucy's parents buy his wedding cake?"

"Free cake?" Ponyboy asked. "I'll sign him up myself if I have to."

"Well, you don't have to. He's already agreed to the handout."

"You can't think of it as a handout, Sadie," Lucy said.

"Yeah," Dally backed up his wife. "Think of it as a gift."

"What's the difference?"

"One sounds polite, and the other sounds …"

"Suspicious," Lucy offered. "But my parents aren't suspicious. OK, my mom is a little weird, but that's only because she raised me in the decade before Friedan. But that's not the same as being evil."

"Nobody said anything about evil," Sadie said.

"It's interesting, you know," Carrie piped up, still hand in hand with Ponyboy. "I've been reading a lot about evil for my Christian philosophy final next week, and Augustine says that evil is the absence of anything, so nothing is evil."

"I don't know if I get that," Jane said.

"What do you mean?" Carrie asked.

"I don't know. I thought it was pretty fuckin' evil when Tim took out that Brumly boy's eye last year after findin' out for sure he was the one who knocked up your sister. And that felt a little like something."

Carrie looked down at her shoes and turned an awful shade of scarlet. That was another thing that had changed within the neighborhood from 1969 to 1970. Tim Shepard had finally landed himself in prison. For years, he'd been able to evade the law the best he could, but now, even Tim Shepard was doing time because of time. As a teenager, he'd been in and out of reform schools, just like Dally had been before he married Lucy. But in all the years since his adolescence, he'd managed to avoid real time in the real clink. He was just too smart to let anybody catch him. And then, one day, after months of speculating that she was visiting the old neighborhood on a semi-frequent basis, Tim found Angela sitting in a booth at Jay's. Katie Mathews, Two-Bit's kid sister, had been waiting on her table and finally recognized her for certain. The two of them talked about where Angela had been and why she'd run off. To Tim's surprise (and Carrie's, when she heard about it), Angela was telling him the complete truth. Carrie supposed she was tired of feeling alone … tired of keeping all her thoughts to herself. Even Angela Shepard had a breaking point. When Tim gouged that kid's eye out, and he told the whole story, most people had been horrified by it. Carrie was embarrassed that her brother, whom she loved even on his most difficult and most violent days, could have done a thing like this. Most people felt sick when they thought of Tim Shepard blinding a guy because he knocked up and deserted his kid sister.

Darry Curtis never would have said so out loud, but he understood it completely.

"I don't know how in the world we got from wedding cake to Carrie's family," Lucy said. "But can we just call it a day? Can we stop obsessing over this cake? My parents are going to buy it. That's where the story begins, and incidentally, it's also where it ends."

"Parallelism!" Ponyboy said and pointed his index finger at Lucy in some sort of epiphany.

"You must be reading something by Dickens right now," Lucy said.

"_Dombey and Son_."

"Ole Jack Bennet's favorite. He's nontraditional that way."

"Is there a way to be nontraditional about Charles Dickens?" Jane asked.

"There is, but you wouldn't get it," Sadie said.

"Why wouldn't I get it?"

Sadie made no reply. She didn't want Michael to feed off her bitterness even more than he already had. It wasn't that she wanted to call Jane stupid. Jane _wasn't _stupid. It was that Sadie was (again, and against her better judgment, which seemed to have defenestrated itself long ago) terribly angry with her oldest friend. For as long as Sadie would look at herself in the mirror and remind herself that Jane hadn't actually supplanted her in her own family, it was still difficult. After all, where Sadie had given up the right to call herself _Curtis_, Jane had signed the very papers that gave her the right to bear that name.

Sadie wondered what Frances Curtis would think of either of them now.

As Sadie tried to explain Victorian literature to Jane (a hopeless case, perhaps, as Jane didn't like to read much that wasn't a fashion or a fan magazine), Lucy took a step back and tried to gauge what was really going on in the Curtis house that day. She and Dally had arrived to talk to Darry and Lynnie about their wedding (specifically the cake), but now, Darry was agreeing to Jack and Esther's gift. Lynnie, meanwhile, was nowhere to be seen, off tending to Jimmy in his new bedroom as though that was where they belonged – sequestered from everyone else who'd been there since what felt like the beginning. Now, Sadie was in the mix, and she was angry. Even if she didn't want to admit it, she was angry, and she couldn't hide her rage (or jealousy – she was so good at synthesizing them) from her best friend. Lucy would have suggested they go outside to talk about it and give everyone else in the room a chance to breathe and regroup, but she didn't. She didn't have time. The moment Lucy moved to touch Sadie's arm and pull her aside, the front door to the old Curtis house swung open one more time.

He had been back for nearly one year to the day. Everyone in the gang had seen him nearly everyday since then. He looked so much the same as when he was nineteen years old and left for his beginning of his tour, and yet, each time they saw him, he looked that much different. He was the same height, and his hair was getting long again. Jane said she remembered the morning he woke up ecstatic because he realized it was long and thick enough to put grease in it again (but ultimately decided not to, as grease was relatively _out, _even for greasers). When he left them and the old neighborhood in the middle of 1968, he walked upright. When he came back to them in the middle of 1969, he walked with a limp. Though the rest of the gang pretended they no longer noticed Soda's limp, they couldn't help it. They saw it every time.

On April 6, 1969, right around the moment Michael Cade was born to Sadie and Johnny, Sodapop Curtis was shot in the leg. He fell to the ground and broke the rest of his leg on the way down there. He lost a lot of blood on soil that was not his own. According to the reports, Soda could have been trampled to death if another man hadn't pulled him up from under his armpits and dragged him back to something that looked more like safety. When they brought him back home, they let him carry the bullet they'd extracted from his leg. And for a little while, he liked to pull it out and brag about how he'd survived, almost like he knew that was the moment he became an uncle. He couldn't let himself die before he had the chance to meet Sadie's new baby. But after the first couple of months after his return, he talked about his amazing brush with death less and less frequently. It seemed like he shut that part of himself off – the part that told him to be a man proud of his victories. The longer Soda stayed inside the old Curtis house, regardless of the long hours he worked or his marriage to Jane Randle (_Curtis_), the more he seemed … odd. He was a version of Sodapop Curtis that everyone else figured he had left behind in childhood. Everyone was too afraid to be afraid.

When Soda walked into the Curtis house that evening, he was overwhelmed by how many people were standing around the living room. It felt like a theater, and he was its reluctant star. There had been more people in the tiny house before. Soda wasn't stupid, no matter how many years he spent trying to convince himself and everyone around him that he had to be. He understood that. But since his return from Vietnam, he couldn't help but feel like everyone was watching him. They were watching him to see if he would ever have a violent and nearly unforgivable outburst like Steve had when he put his hands around Evie's throat … waiting to see if he'd seek solace in more bottles than usual, like Two-Bit. When he'd called Darry and told him that he and Steve were going for a beer after work that day, he heard the pause in his brother's voice – the panic. Everyone was waiting for prewar Soda to become postwar Soda. The anticipation was so palpable that they were missing the obvious. Postwar Soda had been onstage since the minute he arrived back into the fold. He was well into his second act. And no one noticed because they couldn't find what they wanted to see. Veterans were supposed to come back with something big and traumatic. Soda came back different. There was no other way to describe it but _different_. And no one noticed.

Well, almost no one.

Sadie turned back around to face her twin in the doorway. She was overcome. A part of her wanted to make a break for it and pretend like she'd gone blind – like she never saw him. A part of her wanted to run at him and sweep him up into the biggest hug she'd ever given him. It had been too long since the twins had shown each other affection like that. But most of her just wanted to fall through the floor, Michael in her arms, and disappear. It was much easier than dealing with the reality of things. It was much easier than dealing with the familiar stranger in her eye line … a gaze upon her that looked so much like her own and yet felt so foreign … so evaluative and almost cold.

Eventually (and at the same time), the twins looked each other in the eye and cracked the tiniest, most unsure smiles of their lives. They waved at each other as though they were gazing into their own reflections. In that moment, it was like the rest of the room (and the rest of the world) had no choice but to melt away. There was nothing to do but start. There was nothing to do but speak.

"Hey," Soda said.

"Hi," said Sadie.

* * *

Two-Bit Mathews rolled up in front of a house on the border of the grease homes and the Soc homes. It was the same border where Lucy Bennet used to live before she lost her mind and married ole Dally on a dare. As he parked the car and waited for the person inside the house to come out and meet him, he fixed his hair in the rearview mirror. Grease may have been _out _for a lot of guys in the old neighborhood, but he was quite sure he'd never give it up. It was too good of a look.

To everyone's surprise (especially his kid sister Katie's), the car had been earned honestly. After the manager of the concession stand at the Dingo caught Two-Bit sleeping off a hangover underneath the front row of seats, he cut him a deal: If Two-Bit got a job manning the popcorn, drinks, and candy on the busiest nights of every week, then the manager wouldn't report him to the police. It paid a decent wage, but it sure as hell wasn't enough. He made up the rest of his money as a custodian down at the high school he'd (finally) graduated from. Similarly to the situation at the Dingo, the older custodian had found Two-Bit sleeping off a different hangover underneath the bleachers. So, the older custodian cut him a deal: If Two-Bit asked the school principal for a job as the assistant (and night) custodian at the high school, then the other man wouldn't report him to the police. It paid a decent wage, and coupled with the cash he was earning down at the Dingo, he had enough after almost two years to pay for his own car. Katie and his mother about died of shock when they heard that one. It was another one of those things that was changing too rapidly for anyone's taste. Two-Bit Mathews was acting responsibly (or at least with the illusion of responsibility). It was that performance of responsibility that landed him there, in front of a middle-class house between the greasers and the Socs.

His eyes lit up when he saw her come down from the porch and get into the car. She was Laura Lubbock, but really, she was _something else_. Two-Bit had met Laura when he went to visit Lucy and Dally down at Great Books in the summer of 1969. Since Two-Bit had finally asked Dally why he bothered to take the fall for him in 1965, and Two-Bit busted the school windows, he and Dally had been trying to fix things between the two of them. To his complete and utter surprise, Two-Bit spent most of that summer going in and out of a bookstore, trying to see if Dally had really forgiven him for being such a piece of garbage when they were just kids. But one day, when he came to bother the hell out Dally once again, he saw Lucy hanging over the counter, talking about some big thick book with one of the prettiest women he'd ever seen.

Lucy introduced the other girl as Laura Lubbock. As it happened, Lucy and Laura were both English majors at TU, and they were taking the same summer course to stay on track with their anticipated graduation date (which, by no small feat, they'd both achieved). Laura was there to go over possible essay topics with Lucy, but she never expected to run into a guy as funny and handsome as Two-Bit Mathews. Two-Bit felt almost the same way about Laura as he got to know her that first day. He'd been immediately captivated by her long blonde hair and the way she wore bright colors like no one was watching, but when she spoke, he thought he might have fallen immediately in love. Boy, did Laura Lubbock know how to turn a phrase and make a joke. She was an English major, she said, and they were very good at things like that. Two-Bit could almost feel himself begin to swoon – _him_! It was only about an hour or two before he asked her for a date, and she accepted. Two-Bit was pretty close to thrilled – as close as a cool guy like himself could get, of course. Laura Lubbock was beautiful and clever, and after Two-Bit had been repeatedly rejected by Lilly Cade, the woman he was so sure he really loved, this date with a different woman was exactly what he thought he needed.

One date turned into two, and two dates turned into three. Before either Two-Bit or Laura recognized it, they were in a full-on, committed relationship. Two-Bit had met Laura's folks, and they even seemed to like him. They didn't care that he wasn't a college student as long as he was kind and loved their daughter. And Two-Bit _did _love their daughter. It happened when he wasn't even paying attention to it.

That evening, she got into the car like always and kissed his cheek.

"Hi," she said. Her voice was one of the sweetest Two-Bit had ever heard.

"Hey," he said. "How ya doin', baby?"

"Not too bad. Daddy doesn't like it when you pull up to the curb but don't come into the house, you know. He thinks it's impolite."

"Well, he don't have a movie to catch in ten minutes when he's runnin' five behind."

"Maybe not, but he still complained."

"Ah, tell him to get over it. We been together a long time now. He knows how much I love you."

Laura blushed. It had been nearly a year since Two-Bit told her he loved her for the first time (beneath her favorite tree in her own backyard), but each time still felt so novel. She couldn't believe she'd fallen in love with one of those raucous boys from a few streets East. She couldn't believe it was forever.

"Believe it or not, it's not even that he wants you to be a gentleman for me," Laura said. "He truly wishes you'd come in there and talk to _him_. He adores you. I always try to tell him that he's not the one dating you, but it's like he won't listen."

Two-Bit chuckled.

"Well, tell your old man I'm flattered, but I swing in a very different way. A way he probably don't wanna think about, given who I'm doin' the swingin' with."

He frowned, suddenly aware of his diction.

"I didn't mean swingin' like the way they're sayin' it these days," he said. "Y'know I don't play that way."

Laura leaned over and kissed Two-Bit's cheek despite the fact that he was driving. Sometimes he was so sweet and cute that she couldn't resist. Now, it was his turn to blush, even though Laura had kissed him like that hundreds of times before.

"You're sweet," she said. "Hey, Daddy says the two of you were hanging out some time last week. I didn't know about that."

Two-Bit's blood pressure spiked.

"Yeah?" he asked, his voice shaking just a little bit.

"What was that about?"

But Two-Bit didn't give an answer. Laura was a smart girl, and she was only asking him to pester him … to badger out of him an answer she'd already stumbled upon for herself. Two-Bit, of course, wouldn't give her the satisfaction right away. He wanted there to be some element of surprise.

"You know," he finally said. "Guy stuff."

Laura smirked.

"Guy stuff," she repeated. "Right."

Of course, there was a certain truth lingering over the both of them, and only Two-Bit knew the resolution. In two weeks, Darry Curtis and Lynnie Jones would be married. On the day after their wedding, so as not to steal the thunder away from the big man who'd done so much to help Two-Bit feel like he had a place in the world since they were just young kids, Two-Bit would get down on one knee and ask Laura Lubbock to marry him.

The thought was more exciting than perhaps any he'd ever had. For years, he thought he'd never be the kind of guy who could fall in love with a woman who loved him right back, but then, all of a sudden, she appeared. He couldn't just let her go. He'd have to do it somewhere private, of course. Laura was special and dear to him, and he didn't want just anyone to see.

* * *

Lilly Cade hovered above the bathroom sink and wondered if this was a new rule.

In 1966, it had been Lucy in the hospital after twisting her ankle. Two years later, in 1968, it had been Sadie, going to the doctor after a week and a half of vomiting. And now, two years after that, in 1970, Lilly was dealing (poorly) with the results of her own doctor's appointment. She could hardly believe it. She was freshly twenty years old, unmarried, and pregnant.

Then again, she _was _Lilly Cade. What more could she really have expected?

She supposed she was expecting quite a bit.

In a manner of speaking, Lilly wasn't surprised by what the doctor told her that morning. She'd had to take a couple of buses outside of town to access one of those free clinics to figure it out, but on her way there, she was aware. Much like when Lucy and Dally had Elenore, Lilly's pregnancy was one of those _on-purpose accidents_. Except it wasn't like when Lucy and Dally had Elenore at all because Lucy and Dally were married. They had a relationship, and even before Dally knew he wanted that baby, he wanted that baby. That wasn't where Lilly was.

After Two-Bit started going steady (and then _super steady_) with Laura Lubbock, Lilly felt her heart break like it never had. All of a sudden, she was fifteen years old again, waking up in the Mathewses' house to find she was alone except for Katie and her judgmental gaze. It was raw to see the man she'd always loved with some other woman – some other (blonde) woman they never even knew before. At least when it was Kathy Whoever, it made sense. She lived in the neighborhood, and a few guys had tried her out before she almost sort of settled on Two-Bit. Lilly could handle it when it was one of their own. But Laura Lubbock existed in some other space. She wasn't poor, but she wasn't rich, either. She had a college education. Like Lucy, she'd be graduating from TU the very next day. She was smart and funny and she was _white_ (all white, anyway). As far as Lilly could see, Laura Lubbock was everything Lilly Cade was not.

It wasn't like Lilly could tell anyone how she felt about Two-Bit choosing Laura Lubbock over her. Not after all the times Two-Bit had come to her with regret, telling her he loved her and wanted to be with her, regardless of the bullshit he'd put down before. She'd turned him down. She hadn't gone after him even after he played "Just Once in My Life" at Jay's that afternoon in 1969. Of course, she hadn't been sure it was him (but it was). Either way you looked at it, Lilly had turned Two-Bit down when he wanted her. It was within his right – _expected _– for him to seek out someone else.

But did it have to be Laura Lubbock? Did it have to be someone who was so _white_?

The white thing was part of what landed Lilly in that situation. Since she was about eighteen years old, Lilly sought out white boys to take to bed with her. She knew it was probably a problem, but she did it, anyway. It made her feel like she was taking back some of the power she gave away to the little sons of bitches in grammar school who made her feel less than beautiful because of her skin and because of her eyes. It made her feel like she had a shot at being the model on a magazine cover. When Lilly landed herself another white boy, it made her feel (She knew how her friends would feel if they knew she saw herself this way.) _worthwhile_. Lilly wasn't clueless. She knew the way the world worked, and she knew that white boys grew into the white men who governed _everything_. But when she took them to their most vulnerable spots, she felt like she belonged somewhere, even if it was only temporary. She felt like she was good enough to sit on the main floor of the movie theater. Part of her wished she didn't feel that way, but she couldn't help it. It was what everyone had told her to think, more or less.

And one day, without really recognizing it, Lilly decided that she wanted to be a mother to a white child. Lilly was already half white to begin with. Maybe if she had a baby with a white boy, her baby would get to experience life as part of the many – as part of the privileged. She saw how excited Johnny was when his son, Michael, was born with Sadie's (Anglican) eyes. She wanted to give that kind of reward to her own child. She wanted to _live for _something. A baby, she figured (even in her unconscious) was something to live for.

That was what Soda's high school girlfriend had done. That was what Angela Shepard had done, too. It seemed only logical that Lilly Cade would be the next follow down the pattern.

She looked at herself one more time in the mirror. She'd seen two of her friends become mothers before. She'd seen how it changed them – how it took parts of their personalities and turned the volume up on them. Lucy had always been protective, but now that she had Elenore, she was even stronger. Sadie had always been sensitive, but now that she had Michael, she was kinder than ever. Lilly wondered if something like that would happen to her when she had her own child. She wondered if there was anything great about her to come forward like that.

Just for a moment, when she looked at herself in the mirror, Lilly Cade saw herself and thought she was beautiful.

But then, of course, she had to purge.

* * *

Katie Mathews punched out of her shift at Jay's. She wondered what was taking Lilly so long in the bathroom, but she couldn't stick around and tend to Lilly's tables for much longer. She was already working overtime, and her manager didn't want to have to pay her even more. In a way, Katie was glad to get the boot for the night. Her feet were killing her, and she wanted to go home and see Two-Bit. He was planning to propose to his girl. Now that Lilly seemed to be well over him, Katie didn't feel quite as guilty about her excitement for her brother and Laura Lubbock. She looked forward to having Laura in their little mess of a family.

Things between Katie and Two-Bit had been going surprisingly well since the beginning of 1969. At least, it was a surprise for Katie. In the previous January, Katie told Jane (whom she would always love, in some fashion or another) that she was a lesbian. Jane had been gregarious about it – hadn't automatically assumed that just because Katie liked other women meant that she'd been in love with her all her life. Of course, Katie _had _been in love with Jane all her life, but she wasn't going to admit that to her face. Since Jane had been so loving toward Katie (who would always feel markedly different, even though everyone said she wasn't _different_, just not straight – still felt like a ton of crap because none of Katie's friends knew what it was like to be anything other than straight), Katie finally found the guts to come out to Two-Bit in May of 1969.

His reaction was calm – almost like Katie hadn't said anything new to him at all. When she told him she was a lesbian, and that meant she was a woman who loved other women, all Two-Bit did was nod. She furrowed her brow, waiting for some rote speech about how he hadn't been _expecting _it, but it was OK. She was waiting for him to tell her that dreaded inevitability – that _he accepted her_ (as though she needed someone else's _permission_). But he didn't. He just nodded. When she asked him if he had anything to say – any questions, even – he finally just shook his head.

"Naw," he'd said. "I love you, if that's what you wanna hear."

That was all it was. No "I _still _love you." No "I'd love you even if you were a turtle person" or some adjacent garbage Katie would eventually hear from other people throughout her lifetime. Just "I love you." And she did need to hear it. They didn't exchange it often enough.

Katie decided to take the bus home that day. Normally, she would walk, but she was too tired to take another step. When she got on, she wasn't paying attention to where she was going. But as soon as she took her seat, she heard a voice she'd never forgotten but never expected to hear again.

"Why, Miss Mathews!" the voice called out to her. "You're beautiful."

Katie jumped and looked around to where that voice was coming from. Sure enough, it wasn't a dream. She was really there – still wearing trousers, though her hair was longer now. Katie couldn't even smile. She was too shocked. After what seemed like eons, she could finally eke out one word.

"Blossom?"

* * *

Even though he knew it was wrong, Steve Randle took off in the same direction again that night.

Really, when it came down to it, he could just as easily blame Soda. When the two of them had gone out for a beer after work that day, Soda had said something about living each day like it was your last. It was cliché, and Steve knew that. But just because it was cliché didn't make it any less valuable.

He was getting older, but he was still young. Unlike so many of his friends, he wasn't tethered to anything – not to a job, not to a place, and not to a woman. He was still seeing Evie, but they hadn't talked about getting married since they were in high school. Evie seemed content to hang around with Steve in limbo (a holding pattern, maybe). She never pushed. Maybe it was because she was working and taking a few classes at the community college after all these years since graduation. Maybe it was because it was already 1970, and a women's revolution was well underway. Maybe it was because Evie didn't want to be married to a Vietnam vet who woke up in the middle of the night only to treat her like an enemy soldier. Either way, they weren't talking about making anything legal—not anymore.

And besides, Steve thought. Perhaps he did love Evie. He knew he did, in his way. She loved him in her own, too. But he was young and stupid and filled to the brim with trauma he'd spend the rest of his life trying (and failing – miserably failing) to reconcile. He didn't need to burden Evie with that. She was better than bullshit. She was better than violence.

Maybe, for a few hours every now and then, Steve would do well to visit someone who could take a few of the punches.

So, he did.

* * *

Everyone thought Lucy and Dally were moving to New York City on August 1, but they weren't. They were moving on May 16 – a day after Darry and Lynnie's wedding.

In fairness, that wasn't what they had initially planned. They were going to stay the entire summer and get their affairs in Tulsa together – spend time with the people they loved most in the world (in addition to, of course, their three-year-old daughter). But when the department called and told Lucy that they would need to begin training her for an assistantship on May 18, Lucy had no choice but to spring into action. They would leave the morning after the reception.

Their apartment above Great Books was a disaster. It existed in that very in-between space – between living in and moving out. Dally knew they ought to start packing more, but Lucy resisted. For as much as she'd wanted to leave Tulsa and explore the rest of the country (and the world), there was the smallest part of her that wished they could stay. After all, Lucy's parents lived in Tulsa. Dally's only sister, Violet, lived in Tulsa.

Sadie and Soda lived in Tulsa.

"If you ain't gonna pack anything up tonight, can you at least tell me why we ain't tellin' nobody about when we're goin'?" Dally asked. He was helping Elenore get changed into her pajamas.

"I don't want these ones," Elenore said.

"Well, which ones do ya want?" Dally asked.

"Purple."

"Purple's in the wash. Take it up with your ma."

"Ma?" Elenore asked. "Where's purple?"

"Purple's in the wash," Lucy said. "Take it up with your dad. He's an able-bodied human man, and he's more than capable of doing the wash himself."

Dally rolled his eyes and helped Elenore into her pink nightgown – a gift from Aunt Jane (one she'd purchased with her own money, too).

"I'll get ya the purple in no time," Dally said. "But you're gonna be OK with the pink?"

Elenore nodded.

"There ya go. Go to sleep, OK?"

"OK, Dad."

"Goodnight, Elenore," Lucy said. "Mommy loves you."

"Love you, Mommy!"

And Elenore was off to bed. She did not tell her father she loved him. After all the time they'd spent together when she was turning two (and despite the fact that Elenore didn't exactly remember that time in her life), she knew she didn't need to tell him. Dally already knew.

Dally turned to Lucy to ask her again about why they were keeping their moving date such a secret at such a pivotal time. She exhaled, exhausted.

"Look, I know I'm fucking up, OK?" Lucy asked. "I'm always fucking up."

"Yeah, you kinda are," Dally agreed. "This ain't what I had in mind when I agreed to have a wife and whatnot."

Lucy rolled her eyes, and Dally smirked. They understood better now.

"But I just can't ruin the wedding like this," Lucy said. "I can't make it all about us. I mean, Lynnie is finally happy again. And Darry is finding his own life. And Sadie … you know how much I hate to see Sadie disappointed."

"Yeah, I do. But you ain't seein' the whole picture, man."

"What am I missing?"

"If you don't tell Sadie we're leavin' right after the wedding, you're gonna disappoint her more 'cause ya didn't tell the truth."

Lucy sighed. She knew Dally was right. That didn't make it any easier.

"Can we just not think about this at this very moment?" she asked. "Can we focus on tomorrow? When I graduate?"

"You focus on tomorrow," Dally said. "I'll pack for two weeks from now."

Lucy nodded. In a life where almost nothing ever was, Dally's agreement seemed fair.

* * *

**And we're off to a **_**ridiculously **_**long start. Tell me, though – did you really expect much else?**

**This story takes place within the fourteen days before Darry's wedding. Each chapter will narrate the events of a different day. I wanted to challenge myself to write on a very small scale, especially after 'See My Friends,' which tells its tale over the course of one full year.**

**Hinton owns **_**The Outsiders**_**. Lucy quotes a passage from Jacques Lacan's 1957 essay, "The Agency of the Letter in the Unconscious, or Reason Since Freud." You can imagine that's an essay I like quite a bit. I obviously claim no ownership of either text, though I do own copies of both.**


	2. Chapter 2

On May 2, 1970, Lucy Bennet graduated with her bachelor's degree. When she thought about it, it was probably the third most important day of her life thus far. The most important day, of course, April 24, 1967 – the day she became Elenore Bennet Winston's mother. By default, the second most important day of Lucy's existence was November 11, 1965 – the day she went down to the courthouse and married Dally, both because she loved him and because he was the reason she would eventually have Elenore. But this day … the day she walked across the stage with her diploma (or the signifier of her diploma, which wouldn't be printed for at least a month after the ceremony) … it was one of the best.

The majority of the gang had been disappointed to learn that Lucy only received eight tickets to the ceremony. Darry, in particular, seemed bitter. He thought back to his high school graduation (and Sadie's and Ponyboy's, too). _They _hadn't needed tickets to attend, so what made a university graduation any different? In the middle of his rant, Lynnie put her hand on his arm in an attempt to calm him down. She knew the rage wasn't actually about tickets. Besides, as a member (by marriage) of the Bennet family, he was obligated to attend. By the time everything was sorted out, Lucy's lineup consisted of her parents, her husband, her daughter, Sadie, Soda, Lynnie, and Darry.

"You wouldn't want to go, anyway," Lucy said when the other folks were sad about not being able to attend. "Graduation ceremonies are terribly long. You'd be sitting in a packed room in an uncomfortable stadium chair for hours."

"Bullshit!" Two-Bit had said.

"Why are you even upset, man?" Dally asked. "You're goin' to the graduation for Laura."

"It's still bullshit."

"Is it really _hours_?" Ponyboy asked. "I remember my high school graduation, and it was only somethin' like ninety minutes."

"That's a high school graduation," Lucy said. "They just have one graduating class of a hundred and some people, they segregate the color of your robes by gender, and only two nerdy kids get to give a speech before they hand out diplomas."

"You're still bitter you weren't one of them nerdy kids who got to give a speech, ain't ya?" Dally asked.

"If math weren't a subject, and I'd edged out _Randy Adderson _for salutatorian, the class of 1966 would _still _be thinking about my speech. They'd never be able to think of Aristotle without thinking of me in the same breath. I drew brilliant connections between the supposed uselessness of secondary education to the Aristotelian notion of entertaining thoughts without accepting them."

Everyone stared at Lucy like she had worms crawling out of her ears.

"I can't believe I have sex with you," Dally finally said.

"Yeah, me neither," Lucy said. "I'm way too good for you."

"What makes a college graduation so different?" Jane asked.

"For one thing, there's a keynote speaker, who delivers a very annoying address about how the future belongs to those who believe in their dreams," Lucy said. "For another thing, there's more gender equity with the robes. Everybody's wearing black. And for another, it's way longer."

"Like half an hour longer?" Lilly asked.

"Like three whole hours long," Lucy said. "Trust me, you all do _not _want to be there."

"But you're gonna make Elenore sit through it?" Ponyboy asked. "She's just a baby! She won't be able to sit still!"

"Shoot, Pony," Soda laughed. "Elenore's three years old, but she's got more discipline than you do right now. We couldn't even take you to church when you were fourteen. Ya made a racket."

"Soda, that was you," Ponyboy said. "You and Steve."

"Wasn't I there?" Two-Bit asked.

"You were," Ponyboy said. "You waved at them."

"Guess I did."

After successfully convincing (_reminding_, more accurately) the rest of the group that they didn't want to attend the whole graduation ceremony, Lucy was finally able to tell them that her parents were opening up their house in the early afternoon for a small get-together, celebrating the event. They were all quite glad of that, especially Two-Bit, who found it increasingly more difficult to sit still for more than thirty minutes since he'd been back from Vietnam. It had been nearly two years, and not much had changed. On a (reluctant) double date, Laura once asked Lucy and Dally if that was normal. Dally thought about Elenore as he admitted to Laura that he didn't really know how to answer.

Ultimately, it was all for the best. The gang was a group of extroverted celebrators, not people who sat quietly in uncomfortable chairs while only one person they knew walked across stage. Jack and Esther Bennet had made enough food for everyone to have for weeks. Jack joked that if Lynnie and Darry were getting married within the next three days, they could have the leftover barbecue at their wedding reception, free of charge. Jack didn't see Sadie roll her eyes as Darry jokingly accepted his hypothetical offer. Lucy did.

Everyone was proud of Lucy for graduating, but perhaps no one was prouder than Elenore. Because she was only three years old, she didn't particularly understand what was going on, but she understood that it was about being happy for her mother. There was almost nothing in the world Elenore Winston liked better than to be happy for her mother (besides, perhaps, being happy for her father). Throughout the graduation ceremony and the party at her grandparents' house, Elenore would turn to her father and repeat the same phrase, each time with increasing excitement and wonder.

"She did it, Daddy," Elenore would say. "Mommy did it."

"Yeah, baby girl," Dally said. It was the middle of the party and perhaps the thirtieth time Elenore had said those words since she woke up in the morning. "You're right. Mommy did it. She graduated."

"She did it, Daddy. Mommy did it."

"Yeah, she did. Do ya know what she did?"

"No. But she _did it!_"

Dally laughed a little, picked Elenore up from the grass, and swung her onto his hip. She giggled all the way. There was nothing she loved more than to be picked up by her old man.

"Your ma graduated from college," Dally said. "That means she knows a whole lot about a certain subject in school. For her, that's books and stuff."

"I _love _books."

"I know ya do. Ya grew up livin' above a bookstore, and ya got your ma's blood runnin' in your veins."

Elenore prattled on about being proud of her mother, and Dally (coolly, but dotingly) listened. In the midst of Elenore's sweet, babbling monologue, Soda sidled up beside the pair and looked right at Dally.

"It's funny," he said. "It's a graduation, and I half-expected you not to be there."

"What?" Dally asked. Then, of course, he remembered. "Oh."

"Don't tell me you forgot when I came to your door and tore ya a new one for missin' Lucy's high school graduation four years ago."

"Ya didn't tear me a new one. I had the jump on you."

"Really? Ya looked pretty stunned to me."

"I had the jump on you 'cause I'm tougher than you."

"Sure, man. Let's go with that."

The two men were silent for some time. Things had always been awkward between them. When they were just kids, Soda had always looked at Dally like a cautionary tale. He had his qualities and his good moments, but he wasn't the kind of guy Soda wanted to turn out to be. More specifically, he wasn't the kind of guy _Darry _wanted Soda to turn out to be. But as they aged, and Dally struck up a relationship with Lucy Bennet (one of Soda's favorite people in the world), Soda couldn't help but look at him differently. He couldn't help but look at Dally more _closely_. And as he looked, he couldn't help but notice patterns. The way Dally cared for Lucy was eerily familiar. The way he sought to include Ponyboy in their outings and rumbles seemed familiar, too. When he was a little boy, Soda's mother used to tell him that different people sometimes had the same eyes. The closer he looked at Dally, the more he began to see his own gaze reflected back at him in his friend's irises.

Things had always been awkward between them. They felt so different and far apart, but as they grew up, they realized they were more similar than they had ever assumed. After realizing the truth about themselves and their relationship to one another, neither one of them was terribly sure of how to proceed. They couldn't just develop some sort of touchy-feely relationship like Soda had with his brothers or even like Ponyboy had with Johnny before Johnny went and married Sadie. Instead, they had to acknowledge what was between them in pure silence. It was the only way Dally knew how to express the respect and admiration he felt for Soda. It was the only way Soda knew how to make sure Dally still took him seriously. One step out of line, and it felt like it could all just shatter before their eyes.

So they kept their eyes on one another instead.

"I'm just happy ya turned up this time," Soda said, and Dally noticed how quiet his voice had become since he returned home from the war. These days, he was rivaling Johnny in the taciturn contest. He didn't know what else to do, so he nodded.

"Yeah," Dally said. "Me too. Think Lucy would've had my head if I skipped out on this one. She's real proud."

"Mommy _did it_!" Elenore said from her safe position on her father's side.

Soda beamed. He was all too excited to play with Elenore at this party. While everyone else mingled and discussed things like Darry and Lynnie's wedding, Lucy and Dally's impending move to New York City, and when Sadie and Johnny were going to give baby Michael a brother or a sister, Soda was much more interested in playing make-believe with his goddaughter. He liked it best when they pretended they were animals in the zoo. Elenore always liked to be an elephant because _elephant _sounded just a little like her first name. But that, Soda realized, seemed to be _then_. Now that Elenore was officially three years old, it seemed like she was suddenly tired of running around, playing with her penguin (the affectionate nickname Soda had bestowed upon himself after coming home with a bum leg after the war). As soon as Elenore turned three, she'd walk up to her godfather and smack a copy of _Green Eggs and Ham _or _Where the Wild Things Are _down on his knee. He was good with _Green Eggs and Ham_. All the rhyming was silly and fun, and he liked how bright the pictures were. They didn't remind him of anything. After Soda read _Where the Wild Things Are _to Elenore, he had to step outside for a minute. Then, that minute turned into an hour. It was a good thing Darry and Pony were there to look after the baby, too. Otherwise, Dally probably would have killed him, and he wasn't sure that was what he wanted.

In the year since Soda had been back, he'd spent most of his time playing with Elenore. She seemed to be the only person he could really connect with. She was the only person who looked at him and saw a fun guy ready to play at a moment's notice. She looked at him and loved him like he was a hero, not a boy in a grown-up's clothes. Elenore didn't think that Soda was fragile. She had no concept of fragility – especially not as it applied to her parents' big friends. Where Sadie seemed too afraid to even exhale by his side, Elenore felt more than comfortable just climbing all over him, like he was her personal jungle gym. Playing around with Elenore made him feel like he was a whole person. It made him feel safe.

Somewhere in the second month of their marriage, Jane thought a little more about Soda's connection with his goddaughter. Where she'd once worried about it – worried that Soda was sinking his energy into playing with a toddler because it was easier than dealing with the terrifying adult world around him, the one he'd missed while he'd been away – now that they were married, she was more willing to think of their connection in a different light. One night before they went to bed, Jane said something to him about how it was so sweet, his love for Elenore. Soda agreed. Elenore was the greatest kid who'd ever been born. Jane asked if Soda was interested in having a baby of his own. After all, Jane was pretty sure she could be ready to have a baby whenever. She'd been helping to look after Elenore and Michael since they were first born, and she thought she was pretty good at knowing how to be a mother. But after she brought it up, Soda turned white as a ghost and refused to entertain the idea ever again. Jane took the message, but she wasn't sure what to do with it once she did.

"Yeah," Dally said to Elenore. "You're right. Mommy did it, and we're all real proud of her for doin' it. Ya wanna play with Soda now?"

"Yeah," Elenore said.

"OK."

Dally passed Elenore over to Soda, and as Soda swept Elenore up into his arms, she begged him to go inside and read to her. She wanted to hear the story from her favorite book, _Where the Wild Things Are_. As she begged and pleaded for the book she loved so much, Lucy (still wearing her mortarboard) walked by and smiled.

"What're you smilin' at, Bennet?" Dally asked. "The fact that you still got on that funny hat?"

"I think it suits me," Lucy said. "And anyway, that's not it. It's Elenore. She's begging Soda to read _Where the Wild Things Are_."

"Yeah," Soda said. "What's so funny about that?"

"Eddie, my boss at Great Books, he tried to read it to her one time before she turned one. She cried and cried because it scared her. Now, she's three, and she can't get enough of that damn book."

"Huh."

"Damn straight. It's strange how much can change in just two or three years, isn't it?"

Soda nodded. He didn't have a good response for Lucy, but he felt that it was true. He felt it every time he felt Sadie's eyes on him. They were different now. He could explain it. He could explain it, but he didn't want to.

"So strange," Lucy said. "And, hey. Come to think of it, that's the book she cried over the day you got your draft card."

Soda tried to smile, but it was all messed up and broken. Smiling seemed like the right response – the only response, perhaps – but it was wrong. Everything was wrong. Everything was wrong, and where was Sadie?

"So strange."

* * *

"Can you believe my sister and Katie?" Johnny asked Sadie. The two of them were inside the Bennet house, getting Michael up from his nap.

"Yes," Sadie said. "Can't you?"

"I guess so. But don't they see how little Michael still is? He's thirteen months."

"Somebody's doin' that parental thing. Agin' the kid based on his months. Just say he's a year old, Johnny."

"It's different when they're this little. Big difference between twelve months and bein' eighteen months."

"But not a big difference between twelve months and thirteen."

"I think you're avoidin' the subject on purpose."

"Might be."

"I couldn't believe it when they asked us if we were gonna have another baby this soon. Even as she was askin' it, Lilly looked a little green."

Sadie beamed as Michael woke up and saw her standing over him. Her heart swelled with love. She'd always known that she would love her child – love being a mother in her own Sadie way. But it wasn't until she met him that she knew just how deep that love could be. It wasn't until he opened his eyes for the first time, and she recognized the eyes looking up at her. They were hers. They were Soda's.

"Something's going on with Lilly, by the way," Sadie said offhandedly.

"What?" Johnny asked.

"Yeah. I don't think it's especially bad or anything, so don't push her. But there's something goin' on, for sure."

"I didn't pick up on that at all."

"I don't think most of us have. Lucy, maybe. She keeps lookin' at her funny."

"How can you two see it and I can't? She's my sister."

"And that, my love, means one thing in return. You're her brother."

"What's that got to do with it? Huh?"

But Sadie didn't reply. Johnny already knew the difference. No matter how sensitive and sweet he knew how to be, he would never be able to pick up on that secret connection among sisters. He asked Lucy about it once when Sadie and Jane seemed angry at each other without even exchanging a word (the year Soda was away). Lucy nodded and told him that the connection shared from woman to woman was one that existed outside of language. She couldn't describe it because it had no description. From Lucy, that was good enough.

"Well, I still think it's nuts," Johnny said. "You and me havin' another baby."

"Is it?" Sadie asked.

Johnny's eyes popped open. He hadn't expected this.

"Huh?"

"You and me havin' another baby. I'm not so sure it's nuts, Johnny. We've always talked about wantin' to have a couple more babies. I know you'd like to see if you could have a little girl."

"Ain't no guarantee the next one would be a girl."

"I knew Michael was a boy before I even got knocked up."

"That was a lucky shot."

"I'd like to think I have a talent. I'm a Cassandra."

"Because I don't believe ya when ya say ya know the future?"

"Somebody's been readin' _Agamemnon _when I ain't lookin'."

Johnny became very bashful. Like Dally, he was known to read the books Pony kept around the Curtis house when they were all just kids. Even now, when Johnny and Sadie would take baby Michael to visit his uncles and aunts, Johnny would pick up whatever Pony left around because he still often forgot to put his stuff away. But the copy of _Agamemnon _hadn't been Ponyboy's. It was Carrie Shepard's. And the fact that the book was Carrie's made Johnny almost proud. Ponyboy was moving on, just like the rest of them, but he still had that tint of gold around him.

They all did. It just wasn't green.

"So, what do you wanna do, then?" Johnny asked. He was getting choked up.

"I don't know," Sadie said. "I mean, I thought I wanted to have another baby now. You know, while we're both still young and healthy. Ain't nothin' worse in my mind than chasin' around a baby when your knees are givin' out. That's what bein' a grandma is for."

Johnny nodded, though it gave him something of a great joy to picture Sadie Lou Curtis as a grandma. It would be her great gift to her mother's memory, he thought. What Frances Curtis would think of her now!

"But if you don't think we oughta have another one this soon after Michael bein' born …"

"No."

"No? No, what? No, you don't think we should have another baby? Or …"

"Or. I been wantin' us to try for another baby since Michael cut his first tooth."

"I been wantin' one since the minute he learned to open his eyes."

"You was still lyin' in the hospital bed then."

"I know!"

And just like that, at the very same time, Johnny and Sadie swept each other up in one of their more romantic embraces and kisses. Michael kicked up his legs in some sort of approval. He didn't understand the idea of a brother or a sister yet, but his parents decided to take his kicking and his giggling as a sign in their favor.

"So, what do we really do now?" Johnny asked. "Now that you and me know we're on the same page and everything like that."

"Well, I didn't think I'd have to remind you," Sadie said. "It's only been three nights since you and me …"

"No, I mean … when? Now?"

"I'd prefer not to subject our son to such a display."

"Naw, I mean … when we get home, do we start tryin'? Or do we wait a couple months … maybe after the wedding stuff dies down … maybe after Lucy and Dally move to New York … and we start tryin' to have another baby then?"

Sadie thought. She supposed, in the back of her mind, she had been thinking about Lucy and Dally's impending move to the East Coast the whole time she and Johnny stood there and talked about adding to their family. But instead of thinking about how they would be able to find a home big enough for two adults and two little children, she thought about how she could best fill the gaping void that Lucy's departure would leave. Once Lucy was gone (once Sadie no longer had the opportunity to run to her when she needed a break), Sadie wasn't sure what she was sticking around the old neighborhood for, either. She and Johnny had just as much a right to explore the rest of the country and the world. What made Lucy and Dally so special? She remembered the way Lucy beamed when she glided across the stage at her college graduation earlier that day. That was what made her so special.

But of course, Sadie wasn't angry with Lucy for getting her college degree. Maybe a part of her would always be a little jealous of people like Lucy Bennet and Laura Lubbock who had the means to go to college, even if they were bogged down by husbands and daughters and, well, Two-Bit. But that wasn't what bugged Sadie so much about Lucy's upcoming move to New York City. The thing that bugged Sadie the most was just that she would lose Lucy. And after nearly eight years of spending all her time with Lucy, having lunch with her, reading books with her, and crying her eyes out in Lucy's lap, Sadie wasn't sure she was ready to lose that. She'd already felt like she was losing her closeness with Soda. If Lucy left, who did she have? Johnny was her adoring husband, and she trusted him with her life. But there was a big difference between the love and care of a spouse and the love and care of a best friend. With Lucy gone and Soda's head in a postwar fog, Sadie felt like she was going to miss her right arm and her left leg. A new baby would make her feel whole. A new baby would make her feel happy and close to her family, just like she had on the day she had Michael.

But was that all Sadie knew how to do? When someone in her life left for circumstances mostly out of their control, was that the only way Sadie knew how to cope? By having a baby and filling that void with booties and bottles? She hoped not. If she had babies to cope with the losses of her friends and family, then she wasn't a good mother, after all. If Sadie had babies to cope with the losses of her friends and family, then she was no better than _Sandy_.

She looked into Johnny's hopeful eyes, and she knew. She didn't want another baby just to fill the void that Lucy's departure would undoubtedly leave. No. When Sadie looked into Johnny's sweet eyes, she knew exactly what she wanted. She wanted a little girl with his eyes and his shy smile. It was time.

Sadie grabbed Johnny's face and kissed him like she had three nights before. When she pulled away, he was smirking at her in a way that she, as a young girl, would have thought only Dally could do.

"Don't be silly," she said. "We're gonna try as soon as we get back to the house."

The promise hung in the air for the rest of the evening.

* * *

Lilly stood with her back against the Bennet family's garage, staring off into space. Every moment or so, she would forget where she was. And then, of course, she'd see Two-Bit giggling and kissing with Laura Lubbock, and she'd remember. She was at a party in honor of Lucy's (and Laura's) college graduation. It was May 1970, Two-Bit had moved on from his momentary love for her, and she was pregnant with an anonymous white boy's baby.

She wondered if she could confide in anyone about her pregnancy. The way Sadie and Lucy looked at her all night, she was sure they already suspected. But she didn't want to tell them. She didn't want to take away from Lucy's big celebratory night, and she didn't want Sadie to tell Johnny before she was ready. Johnny. Would he react badly to the news? He'd always wanted Lilly to have a life that was so much different than their mother's. And yet, there they were, and Lilly's life had (in some respects) turned out _worse_. At least when Lilly and Johnny's parents accidentally made them, they were already unhappily married. There was something to be said about a pregnant woman with a wedding ring around her finger, even if that ring meant shit to the people involved. Lilly didn't have that. Somewhere inside of her, she knew Johnny would be disappointed. Lilly was always supposed to be _more_. She was supposed to be more than the people who came before her. They were both supposed to be more. And where Johnny had succeeded in his happy, balanced marriage to the Curtis family's only daughter, Lilly had failed. She thought she shouldn't have been surprised, but that didn't change a thing.

Two-Bit had walked up to her earlier that evening and offered her a beer. She turned him down because she was still twenty years old and couldn't legally drink liquor. She didn't want to do it in front of Dr. and Mrs. Bennet. They'd always been so nice to her. She wouldn't want to disappoint them any more than she already had. When Two-Bit asked her what in the hell that meant, Lilly awkwardly cleared her throat and tried to change the subject. Thankfully (and it was the only time the subject would ever warrant such a word), Two-Bit was a bit too drunk to ask many questions about Lilly's behavior. If he'd been sober, he'd know it was odd for Lilly Cade to turn down a drink, especially if he was the one offering.

But things had changed. Every time Lilly saw Laura Lubbock's hand in Two-Bit's hand, she was reminded of that rude truth.

"Lilly?"

Finally, Lilly pulled herself out of his miserable, panicked trance. She saw Katie Mathews standing in front her with a worried smile painted across her freckled face. She exhaled at the familiar sight of her best friend. But then, she wondered. Even if Katie was Two-Bit's sister, and she was likely to run and gossip to him, could Lilly tell Katie that she was knocked up by some white boy whose name she couldn't remember? Was this her only choice? And if she told Two-Bit, would it establish the kind of dialogue between them that Lilly had, for almost five whole years, been searching for? She exhaled again. It was time to take a risk. Well – another risk.

"Oh, Katie," she said. "Sorry. You startled me."

"Well, you kinda startled me first," Katie said. "You been actin' weird for a little while now. What's goin' on with you?"

Lilly took a long exhale. Her hands were shaking. She wanted nothing more than to reach out to Katie and tell her the truth. After all, a year earlier, Katie had been brave enough to tell her something much bigger and more important about herself. This was the least Lilly could do. Maybe if she told Two-Bit, that was what Lilly needed. Maybe if Katie told Two-Bit, he would feel so guilty that the girl – woman, now – he'd always loved was going to have to raise a child on her own. Maybe it would inspire him to finally leave Laura Lubbock, his distraction from his true feelings for a seemingly unattainable Lilly Cade, and they could finally be happy.

But as her gaze drifted over to Two-Bit and Laura while the former let the latter drink out of his beer can, she knew that was impossible. If she was going to tell Katie the truth, that was all it could be. Just between Lilly and Katie. Just between best friends.

"You gotta promise you ain't gonna tell nobody," Lilly said. "I ain't even told Johnny about this yet."

"Are you OK?" Katie asked.

"I guess so. Things are just … fuck it. Katie, I'm pregnant."

Katie's eyes just about popped out of her skull. Lilly raised her shoulders above her ears, somehow embarrassed of her own circumstances. And why should she be embarrassed? This was her body. These were her choices. And in the end, she remembered that conversation she'd had with her friends at Elenore Winston's first birthday party. Lilly _wanted _to be a mother. She had simply hoped Two-Bit would be the baby's father.

"Are you sure?" Katie asked.

"Went to the doctor yesterday and everything. Had to go way outta my way to find somebody who'd see me without insurance. Tulsa needs one of them free clinics, too, I swear."

"Ain't the point. You're really sure? You're really … _pregnant_?"

"You don't gotta say it like it's a dirty word, Kate."

"I know it ain't dirty. Watched Lucy and Sadie be pregnant and everything. But I do know it's a big word. And it ain't a word you want just anybody to hear."

Both girls let their eyes wander over to Two-Bit, who was now repeatedly kissing Laura Lubbock's cheek like they were cartoon characters. As Lilly's expression turned dejected, Katie looked at her with nervous eyes.

"Lil," she started slowly, "there's no … ain't no way that kid inside you is my niece or nephew, is there?"

"Katie!" Lilly practically screeched. "Of course not. How could you even ask me that? Your brother's been with Laura Lubbock for a long time now. I ain't in the business of stealin' him away."

"Good. Just 'cause I know you two got a pretty rich history between ya …"

"He ain't the father, Katie."

"Good. So, who is?"

Lilly became very quiet again. Katie rolled her eyes even though she hadn't wanted to. She knew she wasn't exactly in the position to judge Lilly for meeting strangers in the night. After all, that was how Katie herself had lost her virginity shortly after her high school graduation (in Austin, Texas, on the road trip she and Lilly took, and now, Blossom was _back_? She couldn't process it.). But there was something about when Lilly had sex with guys she barely knew that seemed wrong. Maybe it was that Lilly could get knocked up while Katie never really could. Maybe it was that Katie wasn't terrified of turning out like her mother, a hardworking woman who loved her children and toiled away for long hours to be able to feed and clothe them, but she knew Lilly was afraid of turning out like _her _mother. She never said anything, but Katie knew. When it came to Lilly, Katie always knew.

"Lilly," she said, losing her patience.

"What do you want me to say?" Lilly asked, losing her patience right back. "Do you want me to make up a name? Will that make ya feel better?"

"Maybe it will."

"Well, let me make one up then. George. His name was George."

"Born around 1950? Yeah, I'd say that checks out."

Lilly rolled her eyes, but before long, she was laughing. She knew that Katie didn't mean to pass judgment on her – not really, anyway. They had been best friends since before they could remember, and they were protective of one another. Maybe Lilly would have a chance to be protective of Katie's love life, too, if she ever told her anything about it.

"Are you sure you're OK?" Katie asked again.

"Of course I'm not sure if I'm OK," Lilly said. "I just turned twenty years old, I'm pregnant, and I'm not married. I'm not even anybody's steady. I can see the future now, and it's all poor and downhill."

"That ain't gonna happen to you," Katie said. "You got a whole family who loves you."

"I haven't spoken to my old lady in years. My old man died two months ago, and me and Johnny weren't even sorry when we got the news. He's all I got left, and he's gotta take care of his wife and his kids before he even thinks about takin' care of me and mine."

"I ain't just talkin' about your blood family, and I think you know that."

Lilly sighed. It was like she was releasing a year's worth of tension. She fell forward and embraced Katie into her arms. She thought maybe if this baby inside of her turned out to be a girl, she'd name her after Katie somehow. Of course, Katie would probably object. She'd been sore about her name ever since she found out what her old man did once he left them. What kind of sick fucker names both of his daughters from different women _Katherine Mathews_?

"Thank you," Lilly said. "I love you so much."

"I love you, too. You're sure that ain't Two-Bit's kid ya got there?"

"Beyond sure."

Katie nodded. A part of her was disappointed that Lilly's first kid wasn't also her brother's first kid. She'd always felt a little awkward about the possibility of a relationship between her best friend and her brother. It seemed almost incestuous; like she was caught in the middle of whatever affair they were bound to have. That was the nature of being as close to Lilly as she really was. But now that she was older and more self-actualized, Katie recognized the truth. Lilly and Two-Bit were a good fit. Well, they would have been, had Lilly not outright rejected him after he came back from Vietnam and had Two-Bit not found a wonderful woman in Laura Lubbock. Sometimes, Katie supposed, the right things happened before you even knew they were the right things.

She wondered what Lilly would think of that. Now more than ever.

"Well, what are you gonna do?" Katie asked.

And if Lilly had an answer, she would have given one. But she was stumped. She was _beyond _stumped. There wasn't a word for how helpless and paralyzed she felt. All she wished was that Johnny was standing there. All she wished was that they were little kids again, and he was hugging her tightly, begging her not to hide under the bed. She wished she could go back to when they could barely run around their neighborhood, when all they had to worry about was each other. Yes, that would have been nice. It would have been nice to depend on her big brother the way she used to.

But as he pointed out to her shortly after the birth of his own sweet son, they couldn't pretend to be little children anymore. They couldn't be children. They _had _children. And for them, it was wise to grow up and move on. They at least needed to pretend like they knew what they were doing.

Of course, it had been easier for Lilly to pretend before she knew she was pregnant. Everything had been easier before Lilly knew she was pregnant. She'd only known for a day, but the difference between her ignorant nausea and the knowledgeable was marked. It stung.

"I don't want to talk about it," Lilly finally said. Her voice was so hoarse it was almost unintelligible, but Katie had spent all her life becoming fluent in all tones of Lilly. "I just … I just wanted someone to know."

Katie nodded. Even though she didn't understand exactly, she could imagine.

"Of course."

"What … what about you? You seem like you've got somethin' on your mind. I wanna hear it."

"Aww, I couldn't. Not after what you're goin' through."

"C'mon. Humor me. I need a little bit of a distraction if I'm gonna make it through the rest of this party."

And maybe Katie could have told her about Austin, Texas in 1968. Maybe she could have told Lilly that while she was off having anonymous sex with that white boy at that concert, she was in the crowd with a beautiful woman named Blossom who taught her what the word _lesbian _meant. Maybe Lilly would have listened while Katie told her about that night when she'd lost her virginity to Blossom, and though she'd been with a couple of other women since then, she'd never been able to shake that first night from her memory. She'd never been able to stop comparing other women to Blossom. Even Jane Randle, Katie's longtime love, paled in comparison to the memory of that woman in the music. Maybe Katie could have told Lilly that she and Blossom tried to keep up their correspondence through letters the first six months after they met, but as the year drifted on, Blossom's letters were few and far between. Maybe she could have mentioned the evening before, after Katie got off work and took the bus home. She could have said something about running into Blossom on the bus and going home with her, giving birth to another one of those unforgettable nights that seemed to go on forever. Maybe Lilly could have handled all that. Katie knew she could have. But as she looked into those sad, sad eyes – the ones she'd been working all her life to rescue – she didn't want to make it about her. She didn't want to be happy and thrilled and hopeful while Lilly spiraled toward anxiety and despair. So, all she did was shake her head.

"It's not a big deal," Katie said. "Do ya trust me on that?"

Lilly nodded. She wasn't sure she _did _trust Katie on that, but she wasn't up for a fight. She needed Katie more than ever. She didn't need a fight.

* * *

Although the relationship between Darry's only sister and his soon-to-be wife was suddenly strained, the relationship between his sister-in-law and his fiancée was stronger than ever. Jane and Lynnie sat closely together on the Bennets' couch while Darry and Soda sat across from them in armchairs that felt oceans apart. The two women talked excitedly about the bridesmaids' dresses Lynnie had picked for the upcoming wedding.

"I was just so thrilled when you decided to go with pink," Jane said. "And the pale pink, too – almost white but not quite."

"That's right," Lynnie said. "You can _almost _steal my thunder as the bride, but not quite."

"It's pretty much a genius idea. I couldn't love my dress any more if I tried. Soda, haven't I tried my dress on everyday since I got it? Haven't I?"

"What?" Soda asked. He'd been far away, thinking about how he'd tell Elenore maybe he didn't want to play as jungle animals anymore, after all. Maybe they should stick to barnyard animals. They didn't remind him of anything.

"My dress for Darry and Lynnie's wedding," Jane repeated. "I've tried it on like a million times since I took it home. Haven't I?"

"Oh, yeah," Soda said, but he was clearly still distant. "Ya love that dress. I had to stop ya from wearing it during dinner the first night ya got it."

He turned to Lynnie.

"We were havin' spaghetti," he said. "Of course, you remember that. You came home from havin' dinner here with your aunt and uncle, and you said it reminded you of bein' in Little Italy."

"I do remember that," Lynnie said. "Oh, you'd just love Little Italy, too. It's just as dangerous as the streets around here, but the food is much better."

"Sounds like my kinda place," Jane laughed to herself. She had hoped Soda would join in on her laughter, like Johnny always did for Sadie, but he didn't. He was off in his own world again. It was almost like … Jane dared not think about that.

"Well, don't despair," Lynnie said. "Lucy and Dally are moving to New York, after all, and I'd find it very hard to believe you'd never go to visit them. Maybe you could eat in Little Italy after all."

"I don't know," Jane said. She squirmed nervously in her seat, and Lynnie furrowed her brow.

"What do you mean you don't know?" Lynnie asked.

"Yeah, Jane," Darry said. "Are you tellin' me you don't think you and Soda are gonna visit Lucy and Dally once they move out to New York? 'Cause me and Lynnie and Jimmy, we already got plans to see 'em."

"We're going to take a weekend in the middle of October," Lynnie said. "There's really nothing more beautiful than Central Park in fall. Wayne Newton had a point."

"Just when I thought I'd burned his voice from my memory," Darry said.

"You have the rest of your life to look forward to this," Lynnie said. "Are you excited?"

"Somehow, yeah. I am."

They exchanged a look of pure love and joy. It was the kind of look Jane remembered sharing with Soda before he shipped out. Now she was lucky if she got him to show his teeth for more than half a second every other day.

"Well, I'm just not sure how I feel about goin' that far," Jane said. "I never really been outta the neighborhood for very long. I certainly haven't made it all the way to the East Coast."

"Well, then, all the more reason to go!" Lynnie said. "Maybe you and Soda could go around Soda's birthday. Make a whole thing out of it. A whole event – a gift, maybe."

Jane looked at Soda hopefully, despite the fact that she knew they wouldn't really have the money to swing a trip to New York City. Neither of them had to go there to know it was outlandishly and unfairly expensive, even just for a few days. Besides, if Jane was going to make it to New York City, a capital of fashion in the United States, she was going to do it right. She wasn't going to sleep on a roach-infested floor.

She wasn't going to go with a husband who drifted in and out of consciousness every thirty seconds, either.

When Soda finally processed Lynnie's question and Jane's pleading eyes, he shook his head. He knew that would just about break Jane's adventurous heart, but he couldn't help it. There were other things to think about.

"I don't know if I could do that," he said. "It ain't that I don't wanna see Lucy and Dally. Really, it ain't that. It's … well, my birthday ain't just my birthday, ya know? It's Sadie's, too."

Jane looked around the room, trying to see if she could even spot Sadie. She and Soda hadn't really talked to one another since they'd gotten to the party. She tried to pry and ask how they'd handled one another at the ceremony earlier that morning, but Soda wasn't having any of it. His strange estrangement from his beloved twin sister was hard enough. He didn't want his own wife to smack him over the head with that shame.

What kind of a twin brother didn't know how to be close to his twin sister anymore?

Finally, Jane spotted Sadie and Johnny across the room. It was out of character for the pair of them, but they were standing together, giggling and whispering like they were teenagers in love. Sadie was holding Michael in her arms, and Johnny was telling her something that made her happy. When Jane watched the two of them together, her heart sank. She was jealous. She was more than jealous. After spending an entire year jealous of Sadie because she worried that Soda missed her more than he missed his own girlfriend, Jane thought she was finally over it. She thought she was finally over her bizarre Sadie envy. Alas, that wasn't the end of it. When Jane saw Sadie and Johnny holding each other and giggling like they were a marriage straight out of a magazine cover, she was about ready to lose her mind. Was there anything Sadie didn't have on her? Even now that Soda was back and neither of them _had him _– not really, not in the way they used to before he went away – Sadie was still winning. Both women were married now, but where Jane's marriage seemed like one that had happened in a fog, Sadie's marriage was steady. Purposeful.

She was thrilled for her oldest friend and resentful all at the same time. She wondered if it was cruel. She wondered if she gave a damn. Maybe she didn't. Maybe the only thing Jane cared about was that she was hurting, and once again, no one seemed to notice.

"We could take Sadie along," Jane offered. "Of course, then it wouldn't be much of a getaway for us as it would be a birthday party. And everyone knows I ain't been on my best behavior at birthday parties these past couple of years."

Everyone in the cluster nodded in awkward agreement. Obviously, there was Jane's infamous outburst at Sadie's twentieth birthday party in 1968, when she alleged that Sadie only let Johnny knock her up because she missed Soda, and having a baby was the only way to fill the void her twin left behind. But at the twins' twenty-first birthday party in October 1969, when Soda was back, Jane snuck behind everyone's back and got drunk with Two-Bit. After awhile, she stumbled to the front of the room and said something about everything being bullshit. Nobody gave her a chance to specify what she meant. Steve hurried and grabbed her before she could go off the rails. But it didn't matter. Even if Jane hadn't specified what she meant by _bullshit_, everyone knew. By that point, Jane Randle had been Jane Curtis for almost three whole months, and in that time, she and Soda barely acknowledged that they were married. They didn't talk about their future. They didn't talk about having babies of their own. They never even talked about one day making enough of their own money so they could finally leave Darry to start his family with Lynnie and Jimmy. They never talked about anything that made them seem grown up. It was almost like Soda _wanted _to stay in the house that he grew up in. It was almost like he didn't want to move on.

Why didn't he want to move on? Why didn't he want to move on and take Jane with him? Didn't he love her? Wasn't this what he said he wanted in all the letters he sent her from Vietnam? Maybe he'd forgotten. Maybe he'd hit his head on the way down after getting shot in the leg on that day – the day Michael was born and the day Jane had that inexplicable panic attack in the bathroom. Maybe he just really didn't remember.

But Jane knew that wasn't true. Soda remembered everything. He was just different. He was irreparably different, which meant there was nothing she could do about it. And for a fixer like Jane, this was a living hell.

She didn't _want _it to be a living hell. She just wanted to be happy. She wanted _Soda _to be happy. Why couldn't he be happy? Why couldn't he be happy with her?

There were too many questions, and each answer was more terrifying than the one before it.

"I'm sure you'll figure out a way to see Lucy and Dally in their new place sooner or later," Darry said. "But I don't blame ya for wantin' to wait. The two of you still got a whole bunch of newlywed stuff to catch up on."

Lynnie clapped her hands together like Jane used to when she was hatching a plan of style. Her heart clenched at the sound and sight. She remembered feeling that excited. It was so distant now … almost like another lifetime.

"That's right!" Lynnie said. "Oh, I'm so excited for the two of you – almost as excited as I am about my own wedding."

"Well, we already had a wedding," Soda pointed out. He _loved _to remind people of that one. "We ain't gonna need another one any time soon."

"I'm not just talking about a wedding," Lynnie said. "Although if you ever decided to have a fancier ceremony than the one you had over the summer, let me know. As someone who is soon to have had two whole weddings, I think I can call myself an expert."

Jane nodded. There was a time when she used to believe that she and Soda would save up enough money and have a real wedding – the kind she used to dream about. She remembered being a little girl, staying up all night in Sadie Curtis's bedroom (now Jimmy Jones's bedroom where he played with his toy trucks), cutting out pictures from magazines, envisioning her perfect romantic day. But that day never came, not even when the guy at the courthouse pronounced her "Mrs. Sodapop Curtis," just like she'd been scribbling in her diaries since they were six years old. It had been months since she stopped buying up wedding magazines. She'd given up all hope. She was never getting a wedding. She was married, yes, and she loved her husband like he loved her. But she would never have a wedding.

"We'll see," she said.

She caught Soda's eyes, but he was far away. He was always so far away. And all she wanted was for him to be close to her again. She stood up from her seat and walked over to Soda. She let her fingertips brush against his forearm, and he looked at her like he was confused by her presence. He always looked so confused by her presence.

"Hey," she said.

"Hey, Janie," Soda said. "What's the matter?"

"Nothin'. You wanna come outside and talk?"

Soda sighed. He knew what Jane meant when she said she wanted to go outside and talk. That meant she wanted to ask him what was wrong. She wanted to pry. And he understood. He understood that she was coming from a place of love and concern. Soda might have dropped out of school and rarely, if ever, cracked a book of his own accord, but he wasn't stupid. He could read Jane like he couldn't read _The Old Man and the Sea_. She wanted to talk. She wanted to try to get underneath that which she could never touch.

No one ever could. Two-Bit and Steve had both tried, but it wasn't the same. Soda wasn't hoping to make any breakthroughs by wrapping his hands around his wife's throat, nor was he looking to find his reflection in a pitcher of beer. He had hoped his reflection would be easy for him to find once he returned home a year earlier. He had hoped it would be right there waiting for him, untouched and unchanged since the last time they parted. But it wasn't. It was always moving around. He couldn't even predict when it would be in their old house anymore. That was maybe the most disappointing thing about coming back wrong. He used to be so good at it.

"Soda?"

Jane's eyes and voice were so soft and so sweet. It was difficult to reject her offer, even if there was a big part of Soda that wanted to. It was funny in the way that wasn't funny at all. Years earlier, before the war, before everything changed even though he'd made a promise to himself that everything would stay the same, he would have been thrilled to step outside and talk about feelings and future plans with Jane Randle. But now that things had changed – now that Soda had been on the awkward end of a gun and now that Jane Randle had unceremoniously become Jane Curtis – he felt like he couldn't be near her. It wasn't that he didn't wish to be. It was that he didn't know how to be.

"I'm comin'," Soda finally said.

He stood up and followed Jane outside. He knew that whatever was to come would be uncomfortable for the both of them, but there was nothing else he could really do. Even if he sometimes felt like he was floating around outside of his body, Soda had married Jane for a reason. She wasn't just something to do. She was everything.

Why couldn't he make her know that? Why couldn't he make _himself _know it, too?

They stood in the backyard, parallel to one another. Not meeting. Never meeting. Jane thought back to something Lucy had said once about a paradox. She wished she could remember the whole spiel because it felt so much like the way she felt when she looked at Soda. He'd been home for over a year, and every time she thought she was going to touch him again – touch his soul – she discovered that he felt different. She wanted to say he felt _wrong_, but she knew that would be cruel. There was nothing _wrong _with Soda. He was just different.

So different he could barely recognize anyone anymore, even himself.

"What did ya wanna talk about?" Soda asked. He was trying so hard to act like the chipper man he'd been before the war, and even though his tone sounded about right, he knew Jane could see right through it. She knew it was an act. She loved him too much to call attention to it and complained, but she saw it. Just a little uptick in her beautiful eyes, and Soda knew the truth. He couldn't hide from her. He couldn't hide from her, and yet, she couldn't always see him.

"I don't know," Jane said. The color rose to her cheeks. "I guess … I guess with all the talk about your brother's wedding in the next couple of weeks, I got to thinkin' about you and me."

"You ain't gonna run out on me, are ya?"

The two of them laughed cordially, but that didn't change the anxiety beating its way out of Soda's heart. He'd been run out on before. He was much younger and dumber then, and he was always going to end up with Jane, anyway. But he remembered what it was like to feel abandoned. It was weird. He couldn't listen to any music for about a month or two. Food tasted awful. When he could finally eat again, the only things that didn't make him want to vomit were slices of American cheese. He remembered the way the film felt on his fingers when he would unwrap a new piece. It felt like the last reminder that he was alive. Maybe it was dramatic to think of a shitty piece of cheese that way. Soda knew it was. But that was all he had when he was sixteen and grieving the loss of a girl who'd never loved him the right way. It was the only thing that kept him around – kept his heart beating for Jane and for the draft, eventually. It was bizarre and unfair, but he had a lot of gratitude toward that stupid fake cheese.

In truth, when Soda returned from Vietnam and from rehab after getting shot in the leg on the day his first nephew came into the world, he'd lost his appetite for what felt like decades. When he finally got some sort of hunger back, it was for – sure enough – single slices of American cheese. He never breathed a word of it to Darry. Years earlier, when Soda's diet had consisted of nothing but fake cheese slices and bottles of Pepsi from down at the DX, Darry had been so worried. Soda never wanted to see that scared expression on his big brother's face again, especially now that they all – well, almost they all – lived together under the same roof again. When the whole big Curtis family (with a couple of notable absences, of course) sat down to dinner each night, they would eat what Darry and Lynnie had prepared after work that day. Soda would soldier on and swallow bites of Lynnie's eggplant with delicate sips of water in between them. He would do it. He would do it because it made Darry happy, and it made Jane forget about her compulsion to worry. It was easy to act like he was well adjusted when his family members were around and watching him like a gaggle of hawks.

It was when he knew he was entirely alone that he turned to those single slices of American cheese again.

"I ain't gonna run out on you," Jane said, and her voice was suddenly very solemn. Soda wondered when her voice had become so solemn. "You mean too much to me. You're my husband, for cryin' out loud. Don't that mean somethin'?"

"To me, yeah. Is that what you're talkin' about? You wanna go around and remind everybody we already know that we're married? I don't think it'll be much of a thrill for anybody involved, Jane. But if you insist …"

Jane shook her head, and Soda was visibly relieved.

"I wasn't … look, it's May now, ain't it?"

"That's what it says on my calendar."

"Right. I know. The point is, in two months, we'll be celebrating our first anniversary. You know … our first anniversary _of marriage_?"

Soda cleared his throat. It wasn't that he wasn't happy to be married to Jane. He was, even if they did have to live in his tiny childhood home with Ponyboy, Darry, Lynnie, and Jimmy. There was a reason Soda always wrote to Jane that he couldn't wait to get back home and marry her when he was in Vietnam. He really meant it. There was no one he'd rather spend the rest of his life with than Jane Randle – Jane _Curtis _(And it was still so odd to think that while the Curtis family was gaining at least two new Curtis sisters, it had lost the only one who was born into the mantle.). He loved to wake up beside her … to know that she was there and that she wasn't a dream like she'd been so many times before in that year. But things had changed. They'd changed rapidly and dramatically in between Soda's last letter from overseas and the first time he opened his eyes to see Jane standing in front of him, back home. He couldn't tell her the truth. The last thing he wanted was for her to be disappointed. The last thing he wanted was for Jane to feel like he was turning her away.

Yet, the irony was that the longer Soda stood in front of Jane, asking him to acknowledge their upcoming first anniversary, the more she felt like he was rejecting her. Soda knew it, too. He was dumb, but he wasn't stupid.

"Yeah," he finally said. "I think … well, we oughta do somethin' to celebrate, don't we?"

"I think so," Jane said. "It's in July, of course, and summer's blisterin' hot here, but the weather's always so sunny. Maybe if we talked real nice to Dr. and Mrs. Bennet, they'd let us use the backyard for some kinda party. You know, somethin' small. Mrs. Bennet's been showin' Darry how to barbecue real good. She's the grill master of the house. You wouldn't think since that's usually how a man likes to cook … cavemen and fire and all that … but those ribs you had earlier? Courtesy of Esther."

She bit her lip and looked down at the grass beneath her beat-up sneakers. She knew she was rambling. She knew she was rambling, and she wished she could afford better shoes. Since marrying Soda and resolving to the reality that she may, one day, become a mother, Jane had resolved to nip her kleptomania in the bud. She didn't want her own daughter to grow up a thief.

Would Jane ever have her own daughter?

"Party in the summer sounds good," Soda said. He was so far away. He was so far away that he couldn't tell Jane where he was, even if she could find him.

But Soda knew exactly where he went when he drifted away. It was a secret – one he was tired of keeping. It ate him up. He'd have to tell someone, eventually. He'd have to tell someone, but it couldn't be Jane. He couldn't stand to hurt Jane, and these words would pierce her until she bled … bled like he did on the day Michael Cade was born.

He wished he could tell Sadie, but she would hardly even look him in the eye. Their eyes meant something different now that they were Johnny's son's, too.

"I think it would be real nice," Jane said. "And since it's in July, we'd have the party before Lucy and Dally and Elenore all move to New York. Everybody would be together. You know … one of those one last time things."

One of those one last time things. Soda wished Jane knew what she meant by that. Maybe she did. He wished he had the energy to ask her. But he couldn't. He couldn't hurt her, and he couldn't hurt himself.

Before he could respond to any of Jane's desperate ideas for an anniversary party, he saw the backdoor open from over Jane's shoulder. Sadie walked outside, but as soon as she saw Soda looking at her, she froze. It was almost like terror – terror to see the first person she ever knew how to love.

Jane turned around slowly just to make sure Sadie was the one standing behind her. Soda didn't get that scared look on his face for anyone else, especially not since he'd been back home.

It was too hard to speak. It was too hard not to speak. Naturally, the twins spoke, anyway.

"Hi," Sadie said.

"Hey," said Soda.

* * *

"So, it's official then, eh?" Dally asked. He and Lucy were standing in Lucy's childhood bedroom, packing up a box of books Lucy had left behind when she and Dally moved out nearly five years earlier.

"That we're leaving after the wedding?" Lucy asked. "Yeah. We signed a lease in the East Village and everything. We're going. It's a one-bedroom apartment, and we're giving the one bedroom to our kid, but we're going."

"Not that. I meant now that you're all graduated from college, you really are the smartest one of all of us, ain't ya?"

"I don't know about that. We're all some kind of smart."

"Two-Bit repeated the twelfth grade three fuckin' times."

"And in order to make a comedy out of a tragedy, he's got to be one of the smartest guys in the neighborhood."

"Ya think he's smarter than me?"

Lucy smirked and gave her husband a quick kiss. If he'd been a blushing man, he would have been embarrassed.

"I think you'd be smarter if you didn't try to read behind my back as often as you do," Lucy teased. "I mean, honestly, Dally. Our fifth anniversary is coming up in November. You think I don't know you read my books when I leave them around the floor?"

"Well, I …"

"And sometimes, you even pick them up off the shelf! And then you leave them on the floor, thinking I won't remember that's not the book I was reading earlier, but I always do. Give it up, man. You're just not as sneaky as you used to be."

"I was never sneaky. I got caught all the fuckin' time."

"I know. But it's not because you're dumb enough not to cover yourself up. It's because you're smart enough to know you wanted to be seen."

If Dally had been a sentimental man, he would have said something better in that moment. He would have told Lucy he was glad that she could see him. But he wasn't that guy. Even though he'd been married since he was eighteen years old, and even though he was a father to a little girl he loved so much, he couldn't be that guy. He had to stand tall. He had to stand stubborn. It was the way he was built. He was sure of it.

"What about when you beat the shit outta that kid back when you lived in Ohio?" Dally asked. "That time you got arrested, and the judge made ya carry around a book everywhere ya went till you turned eighteen? Did ya do _that _just to be seen?"

"Absolutely," Lucy said. "I was invisible in Ohio. At least when I was getting arrested and hauled out of the cafeteria, people were talking about me. I think that was the first time anyone in my actual class knew for sure what my name was."

If Dally had been a sentimental man, he would have told Lucy that he found it absurd. He would have told Lucy that he found it absurd she didn't make an impression before she came to Tulsa and the soon-to-be old neighborhood. He'd noticed her before she even spoke to him (yelled at him, really, was more apt). How could no one have seen her before?

But he didn't say any of that. He couldn't. Besides, he didn't need to. After the hellish year the two of them had before, Lucy knew how Dally felt about her without words. Ironically, the books had taught her all about that.

"You did good, Bennet," Dally said. His voice was so gruff that if Lucy had been anyone else, she probably wouldn't have registered that he was speaking.

"Did I?" Lucy asked.

"Oh, yeah. You know it, too. Goin' to college. Bein' a mom. You did good."

"It's not over yet, you know. Hence the boxes and the moving."

"But ya did it once. You can do it again."

As Lucy stood on the tips of her shoes to kiss her husband one more time, she stopped. She saw someone over his shoulder and froze – out of surprise, yes, but not out of terror.

Dally turned around to make sure it was Soda. It was. Everyone had been treating him like a bomb lately. If only they knew just how apropos it was … how correct they really were.

"Hey," Lucy said. "What are you doing up here?"

"I was lookin' for your baby girl," Soda said. "I was gonna tell her … I was gonna tell her that when we play like animals, I don't wanna be jungle animals anymore. It's just too … well, you know, don't you?"

Lucy nodded. She wanted to reach out and hug Soda, but she couldn't. He hadn't taken quite as well to physical affection since he'd been back. It was unusual, and in truth, it hurt poor Ponyboy the most. While he spent most of his nights curled up close to Carrie Shepard, it broke his heart when Soda came back and didn't want to share their space like they used to – before Jane and before war. Lucy understood. She couldn't make Soda know that she understood, but she did.

"I need to talk to you," Soda said. "Lucy."

"Yeah," Lucy said. "That's OK. What's going on?"

"Alone."

He looked at Dally, who was suddenly confused. For the past few years, each time either Soda or Dally had a problem they didn't know how to address in front of other people, they turned to each other. In the year Lucy was distant and almost ran away from him, Dally had sent more honest and terrified letters to Soda than anyone else. He didn't trust anyone in exactly the same way he trusted Sodapop Curtis. So, why was Soda kicking him out now? Hadn't he been vulnerable enough in front of the guy? Or was a year back into the fold enough to get him to forget about what had been?

Dally didn't care. He couldn't care. After all, he was Dally, no matter how long he'd been married and no matter how much he adored his little girl.

It was easy for him to tell himself that. It was easy for him to remind himself of it as he left Lucy's childhood bedroom without even an expression of protest. He didn't want to bother Soda. He didn't want to complain. If he did, he knew Soda would never come around to trusting him the way he used to. And God help him, but Dally _liked _knowing there were a few people out there who trusted him. It made him feel less like trash. It made him feel more like a man – the kind of man Elenore would be proud to call her father.

When Dally left the room, Soda stepped closer to Lucy, but not too close. He needed to be just close enough to tell her what he was about to tell her. Otherwise, anyone could hear him, and he would have sent poor Dally out of the room for nothing.

"What's the matter?" Lucy asked.

"There's somethin' I gotta say," Soda began. His voice was low and slow. "It's … well, I been keepin' it to myself since I got back. I feel like if I told anyone else, they'd never understand. They'd never forgive me for the thoughts I'm havin'."

Lucy's heart leapt into her throat. She nodded. It was the only way to begin to understand where Soda's head was now that he'd been gone for so long … now that he still hadn't figured out what it meant to be back.

"Right," Lucy said. "Go … go on."

Soda sighed. There was no backing down now.

"I keep goin' back to the minute I got shot," he said. He lifted up his pant leg a bit to show the nasty scar the bullet and the surgery had left. "You know, the same minute the doctors told Sadie and Johnny that Michael was born. I keep seein' it. Not Michael, of course, but me. Gettin' shot and goin' down like a pile of bricks. When I hit the ground, I sorta passed out there. Only … only I don't think I was passed out. I think … I think I might've been dead, Lucy."

Lucy's breath hitched.

"What?" she asked.

"The last night before I left home, I had this dream," Soda said. "And in the dream, I was … somewhere else. A whole different place. Not earth. Not … not this. And before I woke up, I heard my mom's voice. She said she was glad to see me. That she always knew I'd be the first one there."

"So … the first one there. Like, in heaven."

Soda nodded.

"Guess so. Well, when I got shot and passed out on the ground, I went back there. I went back to wherever it was. Heaven, maybe. I don't know. I heard my mom's voice, and she said the same thing again."

"So, you had a repeat dream. It happens. Elenore has a dream where all of her hair falls out."

Soda shook his head, and Lucy panicked.

"It was different this time," he said. "I didn't just see my mom. I saw her. It was blurry, yeah, but I knew it was her. Kinda like when you're first wakin' up, and you see someone standin' over you, but you're too caught up in whatever dream you were just havin' to really notice. It was … I don't know what else to say other than this wasn't a dream, Lucy. It was real. I was really there with my mom."

"You mean you were really … _dead_?"

Soda shrugged.

"I guess I can't really know," he said. "The next thing I remember is wakin' up in the hospital to find out I was goin' home, and the first person I'd see would be my big brother, Darry. I was too groggy to be real excited about that. I hope I was happy enough to see Darry when I finally did. I don't remember."

"Do you remember very much about the first few days you got back?"

"No. It's kind of a blur, if I'm bein' honest."

Lucy nodded, though she was a bit perplexed. She and Soda had always been very close, but this was new territory for them. Where Soda usually stood by and listened to Lucy wax poetic about the darkness in her otherwise light life, now, it was Lucy's turn to stand there and listen to him about things so heavy, Lucy wasn't sure she could possibly carry them.

"But I keep goin' back to that place in my head," Soda said. "The one where I was with my mom. And I'd do anything to go back there or to feel that again. It was like … even though I could hear her talkin' at me, it was a place where talkin' good English didn't matter so much. We didn't need to speak to understand each other. We just did. And it didn't matter that I'd been shot or that I'd walk with some kinda limp for the rest of my days. I didn't … I didn't have a body there. I didn't need one. I couldn't be hurt."

Lucy nodded. Maybe Soda couldn't be hurt, but she was in desperate pain. How was she meant to go on, knowing that Sadie's twin brother – her own beloved surrogate of a brother – was feeling this way? What was she allowed to do now?

"But it don't matter," Soda said. "I ain't there. Wherever my mom is, I ain't there. I'm here with y'all – my siblings. With Jane. And I know that since I'm home and y'all were worried sick about whether or not I'd finally make it, I know I gotta pretend like I'm all the way happy, all the time. But I ain't. I can't be. I can't be fuckin' happy when I know there's still a war on. I can't be fuckin' happy when I'm pretty sure there's a heaven out there, and it has my mom. But it didn't get to keep me. I gotta live here where everything is dark and scary. I don't know what else to say. I just know it's true."

And Lucy had a million questions. She wanted to take a step back and ask Soda everything – about where he'd been, where he wanted to be, and if he thought there was a way of getting there that wasn't just dying a terrible death now that they had finally gotten him back. He was theirs, and they loved him. They weren't going to let him go. They couldn't.

So, Lucy just nodded. Eventually, she asked the biggest question on the tip of her tongue – the questions anyone could have predicted.

"Why did you come to me?" she asked. "You're a twin, and your sister … she usually fields this kind of stuff for you. And when things are really bad, that's when you share with Dally. So, why me? Why share this with me right now?"

Soda shrugged, but it wasn't because he was clueless. He knew exactly why he'd been able to talk to Lucy Bennet and no one else. She had the right to know why.

"Because," he said. "You're so much like her, but you ain't starin' back up at me with my own eyes."

Lucy nodded. She was far away … lost in thought about Sadie and Johnny and Michael, which made her think of Elenore. What would Elenore do or say when she realized they were close to living as far away from Tulsa as possible? Would she be angry? Would she insist on staying? As she worried, Soda continued to speak.

"I can't just stare at myself," he said. "I can't."

* * *

**That only took **_**forever**_**. Things are a lot different in my life than they were before. I have more classes to teach, more classes to take, and a whole other person whose well being I have to look after because, in the immortal words of the Buffyverse, "Love makes you do the wacky." But here's a long update in which nothing happens except a lot of talking. Senseless talking is, after all, my specialty. I'm like the **_**Star Wars **_**prequels without Yoda.**

**Hinton owns **_**The Outsiders**_**. **_**Where the Wild Things Are **_**is a 1963 picture book by Maurie Sendak that, of course, Elenore learns to love. How about them callbacks in this chapter, by the way? There are quite a lot. I'm not even sure I was able to keep track of some of them. Let's see!**


	3. Chapter 3

"I have this dream sometimes where I switch bodies with your sister."

Steve Randle sat up in Violet Winston's bed and furrowed his brow. It was May 3, 1970, and waking up next to Violet was nothing new. He'd been waking up next to her since around the time Sadie and Johnny had Michael – around the time Dally asked Violet to watch Elenore so he and Lucy could go to the hospital and meet the kid. Violet had been crushed that she wasn't invited to see the new Curtis-Cade baby pop out of its mother, but she didn't want to let on. She invited Steve over to distract herself, and things ramped themselves up from there. And they never stopped. Over the course of a year, he'd heard a lot from Violet, but that was certainly new.

"What?" Steve asked.

"You heard me," Violet said. "Happens way more than I wish it would. Had it last night. Think it had somethin' to do with you puttin' your arms around me all night. You gotta stop with that, by the way."

"Thought you liked it."

Violet shrugged. She did like it. In fact, she liked it a lot. But that wasn't the point. She was Violet Winston, and Violet Winston didn't get to wake up in bed with someone she really liked. That wasn't what was supposed to happen. That wasn't how the story went.

"What's this dream about, anyway?" Steve asked. "How does it happen?"

"I don't know, really. Just sort of happens. I'm walking around, out on the street, and I'm me. But then I pass Jane, and I'm her. And she's me."

"What happens after that?"

"Who're you? My sister-in-law? All that _Interpretation of Dreams _garbage."

"I'm just tryin' to figure it out. Dammit, V."

"Don't call me that. Dally calls me that."

Steve nodded. He knew what Violet was thinking because he was thinking the same thing. Dally, in all of his wicked glory, would _loathe _to know that Violet was there with Steve. A part of both Violet and Steve knew that Dally must have suspected. He was smarter than most folks, and there was almost no one he could read better than his sister. But he played along. He trusted Violet like he had no suspicion. It was perhaps the kindest thing he could do. It was ironic to think about – Dally doing something kind. But then again, maybe it wasn't so strange. After all, he'd gone to jail for another guy before. What was the harm in pretending like he didn't suspect his sister was having an affair with his old friend?

"I'm sorry," Steve said. "Violet."

"That's better," Violet said. "Anyway. I don't fuckin' know, man. Last night, when I became Jane, I ran into this store. I been there before – well, not there, but around there. Outside of there, to be exact."

"Where is it?" Steve asked. "Do I know it?"

"Maybe in a way," Violet said. "It's that baby boutique closer to _the other side of town_. Real expensive shit in there. I never been in, not in real life, but your sister has. She can get away with walkin' into a place like that 'cause she's got enough Soc clothes to pass. And when I was Jane, I was wearin' Soc-y clothes when I walked into that little shop, ya know? And I bought a little jumper thing. I don't really know who I was buyin' it for. My niece fits into little dresses now that she's three. I don't really know why I was buyin' it at all, except for that I was Jane."

"Jane steals everything," Steve said. "It's how she makes a name for herself."

"But she don't do it no more. And she never did it when it really meant somethin' to her, like when she bought … when she bought …"

Violet sighed. It had been four years since her brawl with Jane Randle outside the baby boutique on _the other side of town_, and lo and behold, she still hadn't processed it. Jane had almost won that day. The only thing that kept Violet hanging on … the only thing that let her win … was that after awhile …

No. She wasn't ready to admit it.

"Well, you remember that fight me and her had when Lucy was knocked up," Violet said. "She bought Elenore this pink little thing. And when I saw her … I knew she was buyin' a thing for my niece, and it made me crazy. I never would've thought to do somethin' like that. And she's my family."

Steve nodded. He understood exactly where Violet was coming from. He often thought about how he'd react when and if Jane and Soda had a baby of their own. Would he like it? Would he be nice to it? Would the kid take more to people it wasn't even related to, like Lucy, since Jane had been closer to her friends when they all grew up, anyway? He could have said all that to Violet, but he wasn't ready. It wasn't time yet.

"So when I was Jane, _I _bought the jumper," Violet said. "_I _did it right. And I could do it, ya know? Because I was Jane, and everybody expects Jane to do the right thing. Sure, she fucks up every now and then, but it ain't the same as me. Everybody knows Jane will do right in the end, and I'll do shit."

Steve hung his head. He wasn't about to contradict Violet because both of them knew just how true it was. But he could listen. He wanted to listen. After all, Violet was the only person in the world who could listen to him anymore.

"But then I saw Jane … me … walkin' past me, in the alley," Violet said. "And I beat the shit outta her, just like I did when I was me in real life. But it was like … I don't know."

"What?"

Violet shook her head. She knew she shouldn't say it, especially not in front of Jane's own brother, but it came up like vomit before she had the chance to swallow it down.

"It wasn't like I was really beatin' up Jane," Violet said. "It was like I was beatin' up _me_. And I think … I think that's why I did it the first time. Ya know, in real life and all that. It ain't 'cause I wanted to beat up Jane. It was 'cause I wanted to beat myself up."

"Violet …"

"Only ya look real crazy if ya beat yourself up. I don't know from experience or nothin', but it ain't too hard to guess. So, I took it out on your sister. I keep takin' it out on your sister, even when I'm asleep."

Steve nodded. He wasn't sure what else to do. It had been years, and he still didn't quite understand the entirety of Violet and Jane's bitter rivalry. Violet had never been able to quite fit in with Jane's circle of friends, which was part of why she'd dropped out of high school all those years ago – that, and if she hadn't started working full time, she would have gone hungry and died before she reached the age of seventeen. But it didn't make any sense to him. He knew his sister, and now, he really knew Violet. They weren't different. They weren't different at all.

"How come the two of you hate each other so much?" Steve asked. "Ya never told me. She don't tell me, either. Feels like ya forgot or somethin'."

"We kinda did," Violet said. "Somethin' about … somethin' about stealin', actually."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Only not about stealin' shit from a store. It was about stealin' people away from other people."

At that, Steve's ears perked. Yes – he might understand some of it now.

"Oh?" he asked. "When was that?"

"Dunno. Probably six or seven years ago. Soda had just started seein' Sandy, and you had just started seein' Evie around the same time. You remember?"

Steve nodded. Of course he remembered. Every time he took Violet Winston in his arms, he remembered. He had to be back home to see Evie in the next hour so she wouldn't be suspicious. He had to make sure Soda never found out about his (near constant, now) trysts with Violet. It wasn't that he was embarrassed to be with Violet. That wasn't the case at all. It was the only place where Steve felt like he could be the newest, fullest version of himself. Everyone else wanted so badly for him to be nineteen again. But he couldn't get that back. He couldn't forget what he'd been through … couldn't forget the way the trigger felt around his finger when he fired and took that boy's life from him. Everyone told him he'd done the right thing. If he hadn't, Steve could have lost his own men. But when he looked at the ground, he realized. This soil was not his own. It belonged to that boy – the one he killed. The soil belonged to that boy, and now, he would be absorbed into it, like he was never really there. Maybe it was poetic. Steve thought it was just war – ambivalent war, striking down boys and men at random, never stopping, never discerning. Just bodies. Just dirt.

"Well, Jane was cryin' all the time about how Soda would never want her now," Violet said. "She was still a brunette then."

"And were you still a blonde?"

Violet nodded.

"When Jane went out and dyed her hair like that was gonna change Soda's mind or somethin', I went out the next day and made my hair dark. I couldn't let myself be the same as her. And it's 'cause of what she said. I told her she could just steal Soda away without even thinkin' about it. I mean, the two of them had more between 'em than anybody in the world. She didn't listen. Then I said … well, then I said I wasn't above stealin' you away from your new girl. And Jane lost it."

Steve shifted his gaze to the floor beneath him. Perhaps he should have seen it coming.

"She couldn't handle it," Violet said. "Thought I was disrespectful for even suggestin' it. Thought I was disrespectful for tryin' to come onto her big brother. And it hurt, ya know? I hate to say it like that, but it hurt. I wanted Jane to listen to me, but she didn't. She stood up on some fuckin' soapbox and made me feel like shit instead. And I guess every time I look at her, I see the way she was lookin' at me that day."

"How was she lookin' at you?"

"Like I was Violet Winston."

Steve made no reply. There was none to be had. Violet's words, on their own, were more than enough.

"When I have that dream, it gives me a chance not to be," Violet said. "It gives me a chance to be somebody else – somebody who's better than me. And I don't expect you to jump in and defend me or nothin'. Jane's your sister. You should be on her side."

"I didn't say anything about sides."

"You don't have to. You need to be on your sister's side. I'd be pissed off if Dally wasn't on mine, and he ain't even here. But that's why. That's why I can't fuckin' stand to be around your sister without beatin' the shit outta her. She's just gotta look at me, and I know. She's Jane; I'm Violet. And what that really means is that she's better, and I'm worse."

If Steve had been a kinder or gentler man, he would have reached out to Violet. He would have pulled some Soda move and tucked her hair back behind her ears, but Violet wouldn't have liked that. They weren't Soda and Jane. They couldn't do the things that Soda and Jane could do. Perhaps they could have figured out the things that Violet and Steve could do, but they didn't. They couldn't.

"Ya know why Dally just calls me _V_?" Violet asked. It seemed sudden, but it wasn't.

"No," Steve said. "How come?"

Violet snorted almost like something was funny. Of course, nothing was. For Violet Winston, nothing ever was.

"Everybody always forgets," she said. "Violet Winston. It was our old lady's name, too."

Steve nodded. He really had forgotten. Dally's old lady had been dead for so long it felt like he'd never really been born at all. It felt like he and Violet had just turned up one day. But Steve knew better than that. By the look on Violet's face – hurt, for the first time in maybe all her life – he knew he had to know better than that.

"She really was somethin', wasn't she?" Violet asked in a voice coated with vitriol. "I mean, what kinda mother can't come up with a name for her kid, so she just gives the kid her own?"

"Must be related to the kinda father who leaves a woman for another woman and names his second daughter same as the first."

Violet snorted. She'd heard something about that – Katherine Mathews and Katherine Mathews. If Katie Mathews had been welcoming enough to her when they were all just kids, maybe Violet could find it in her heart to care a little more. It seemed unlikely. Sometimes, it felt like the only thing that could keep Violet Winston warm was how hard and long she could hold a grudge.

"Must be," Violet finally said. "Dally found her, ya know. In the bathroom when he was ten. He was listenin' to Perry Como on the radio. Can you imagine it? Dally, listenin' to Perry Como."

"That ain't the part I'm havin' trouble picturin'," Steve said. "I know Dally found your old lady, but I guess … I guess since I was ten when it happened, too, I never thought about how rough that must've been for him. Ten years old. How do ya come back from that?"

"Ya don't," Violet said. "Ya don't come back from it when you're eight, neither, so don't ask. I don't remember anything about her, but I know I hate her. She took Dally away from me."

"What do you mean? Dally's always been there for you. You're his kid sister. He was there for you before he ever knew Lucy or before they ever had that baby of theirs."

Violet shook her head.

"I know," she said. "I know. But it ain't like it could've been if I had a different name. It's like … it's like I think that's really why he ran away for three years and didn't take me with him, ya know? Because when our old lady died, I was the only thing of hers Dally had left. And it ain't like she was so great when she was still kickin', but at least she was dead. Ya know what I mean?"

Steve nodded. If anyone understood what Violet meant, it was Steve Randle. He'd felt the same way about his own, still living mother when he and Jane were growing up as well. Somewhere inside of him, Steve knew that his mother loved him. She was often tender and kind, but it wasn't often enough. Instead of pouring her energy into loving her children, Jeannie Randle poured her energy into hating her husband. One of those things did not cancel the other out. He remembered being eleven or twelve years old and thinking that the Winston kids had it lucky. Their old lady was dead. She couldn't disappoint them then.

"Every time he looks at me," Violet said, "every time he says my name, and even every time he sees it written down … I can see him flinch a little. Dallas Winston. Flinching. Ya think that'd be the day, but it's me who can do it to him. Just me. And you'd think I'd be proud of it, but I'm not. He's my brother. We aren't supposed to be afraid of each other. He's supposed to be able to say his own kid sister's name, but he can't 'cause it wasn't my name first. It's too close for him."

She swallowed hard. She hadn't realized how difficult it would be to talk about this. She thought maybe she would grab Steve by the face and kiss him, then fuck him again, then forget all about when she opened up and started to bleed out the trauma she thought she'd repressed. But she didn't. She just kept talking. Something about Steve Randle's sturdy carriage made it easy for her to talk. He didn't speak much, so it felt private, but she knew he was listening. Maybe she needed more comfort than she would typically allow herself, after all.

"I wish Dally would call me by my name," she said. It was firm, quick, and honest. She'd never actually said it before, but she was always thinking it – sometimes in certain terms. "I ain't our old lady. I've never been. I don't even look like her very much. Why can't he see that? Huh? Why can't he figure that out?"

If Steve had been a kinder or gentler man, he probably would have reached out to Violet and told her that Dally had been going through a lot of changes lately, and likely, this could be one of them. Now that he was an attentive husband who adored his wife and daughter, it seemed only probable that the love and attention he gave them would transfer onto his kid sister. After all, he'd always cared about her and for her. He wouldn't have beaten the shit out of Two-Bit that night behind Jay's if Violet's well being meant nothing to him. He could have reminded Violet of all of that. But he wasn't a kinder or gentler man. He was the kind of man who put his hands around his longtime sweetie's throat because he woke up in the middle of a nightmare laced with flashbacks. He was the kind of man who had an affair with his old buddy's kid sister … the kind of affair that would get the shit kicked out of him behind Jay's, just like it had meant for Two-Bit all those years ago.

Maybe that was what he was looking for.

But as Violet tucked a strand of her long, dark hair behind her ear, he knew it couldn't be.

* * *

"So, I been thinkin'," Dally said as he packed up yet another box of Lucy's books.

"A dangerous thing," Lucy said. "Tell me about it."

"You and me have been livin' above this bookshop for a long time now. And I kinda got used to it."

"Yeah."

"All the books around. I've read a lot more of these than you give me credit, Bennet. Ya know that?"

"You're the one who doesn't tell me what you read. And honestly, I really don't get that. Just yesterday, I got a bachelor's degree in books. What do you think? That I think reading is stupid? You can't. That wouldn't make any sense."

Dally shrugged.

"What can I say?" he asked. "Once you make an image, it's hard to take another one."

"Tell me about it. I always blink when the camera flashes."

"You ain't funny."

"I'm pretty sure I am."

Dally rolled his eyes. It was all in good fun. Lucy was just about the only person he knew how to have fun with. He wondered if she knew that. More importantly, he wondered if she knew why.

"I just been thinkin'," Dally said. "What are we gonna do when we don't live around this many books? How're we gonna read to Elenore when she gets fussy if we don't got a whole library right beneath where we live? And how …"

He stopped. He didn't want Lucy to know what he was going to say next, even though he'd been thinking about it for months. After all, the last thing he wanted was to sound like Ponyboy, and this was something Ponyboy would say.

That didn't matter to Lucy. She pressed, anyway.

"How what?" she asked.

"I ain't gonna say."

"Well, now you have to. Those are the rules. You can't leave me on a conversational edge."

"Plenty of other edges I could leave you on, too, if you're interested."

"Dally."

"Fine, fine. Jeez. Don't have a fuckin' cow, man. I was just gonna ask … how long will it take for us to get to the nearest bookshop from where we're gonna be livin'?"

Lucy smirked. She had a feeling that was the question he was going to ask. She'd never mention it to him, but he was becoming quite the predictable fellow in his old age of not-quite-twenty-three. But she'd let him go on thinking he was still wild and reckless like he and the other guys had been before the marriage dare of 1965. It was good for him. It was good for both of them.

"We're moving to the East Village," Lucy said. "I'm going to school in Greenwich. There are going to be plenty of bookshops."

Dally nodded, playing it cool, as though he didn't really give a damn. In truth, he was fairly excited not to be too far away from the books. He liked reading random passages of random books to Elenore while she played. It helped him to stay close to her. More than that, it helped him to learn things. It helped him to keep up with Lucy Bennet.

He wondered if she knew that he thought she was more formidable than he ever was, no matter how many times he'd kicked the tar out of people in alleyways and rumbles.

"Your secret dalliances with books can continue for a long, long time," Lucy said.

"Yeah. Cool."

"If anything, I thought you'd know. You're the one who lived in New York for three years when you were a kid. I've only been to the city a few times with Lynnie and her family when we were growing up. It was all very touristy. You were a local."

"I was an eleven-year-old local. It ain't the same as bein' a grown-up local, man. Plus, I was walkin' around the shittiest Brooklyn streets you ever seen or heard of. I wasn't runnin' around Manhattan like some kinda guy who can afford to run around Manhattan."

"We're moving to Manhattan."

"Yeah, but I still ain't the kinda guy who can afford it."

Lucy smiled affectionately, and Dally, ever proud, even in his marriage and fatherhood, pretended like he didn't notice. They were quiet for a moment, and then Lucy spoke.

"I'm beginning to think we're not doing the right thing," Lucy said.

"About what?" Dally asked. "Movin' to New York? Hate to break it to ya, Bennet, but it's too late to back outta that now."

"Not about moving. About moving so quickly and not telling anyone we're going until we're already gone."

"Are you fuckin' serious? I'm the one who … not two whole days ago, we stood up here, packin' boxes, and I'm the one who told you it was a shit idea. Now you think you're the one who had it? Bullshit, Bennet. Fuckin' bullshit."

Lucy shook her head.

"I'm not taking credit," Lucy said. "That would be plagiarism, and plagiarism is against the honor code of my future job. But I'm saying … I'm saying I'm thinking it over."

"And what? Ya realize you're bein' a dope? I tell ya, we all got a moment or two in our lives where we're straight dopes. Even you, holder of a college degree."

"It's not _that _impressive to hold a college degree, you know."

"Oh, yeah? Name one other person I know who's got one."

"My cousin, Lynnie. She has a degree. Your mother-in-law. She has one. And your father-in-law. He's got three!"

"Ya know what? You are smart. Smart ass."

"And you're predictable."

"Me? Naw. I've always been bad."

Lucy chuckled as Dally picked up the box of books and made his way downstairs. They had been gradually putting things in the trunk of their car and moving them over to the Bennet family garage, and this was the last of another load. Lucy and Dally had finally been able to buy their first car a few months earlier. It was a junky Gremlin, and Esther Bennet had worries about the family taking the car all the way to New York City. Lucy and Dally reminded her that they were poor kids and didn't have a lot of choice. Besides, they were moving to New York, and they wouldn't be driving their own car as often as they did in Tulsa. All Esther did was shake her head and mutter something about how Lucy and Dally might have been poor, but they weren't kids. They knew Esther was right, but they were too afraid to admit it to themselves.

"I've just been so worried about hurting poor Sadie," Lucy said. "She's been through so much the past few years. Ever since we were kids, she always seems to be losing people. Her parents and the accident. Then Soda shipped out just a little while before she got pregnant. Now me? Now _us_?"

"It's gonna happen whether you and Sadie like it or not," Dally said. The two of them paused in the middle of the floor. The store had closed about five minutes earlier, and Eddie was already gone. They were alone.

"You signed the paperwork. You're goin' to school, and you're goin' to teach there. That's all you ever wanted. That's why you were so distant from everybody last year. You wanted more. And you're gettin' it. You're gettin' more. Aren't you happy about it?"

"I am," Lucy said. "But you're not stupid, Dally. You know it's always more complicated than being completely happy or completely sad. I want to go to New York. I want to. But I'm not excited about leaving everybody behind. Especially when _everybody _includes, you know. Sadie."

"She gets it," Dally said. "Look, I've known Sadie a lot longer than you have. I remember when she was just a little kid. Thought she was as tough as the rest of the boys."

"And are you saying she wasn't?"

"Naw, she was. She knew it, too, even though we weren't gonna firm it up for her or nothin'. The point is you're makin' her out to be weak and fragile when she ain't weak or fragile at all. She's Sadie. She's Darry and Soda's sister. She's tough."

"But won't she miss me?"

"Do you really gotta ask?"

Lucy sighed. She knew Sadie would miss her like hell, and Lucy would miss her right back. That was the problem. Lucy already missed Sadie when she was mere blocks away. They missed each other after the distance that having children had created. But at least when they lived in the same neighborhood, they could pretend like things would go back to the way they used to be, before Lucy and Dally came around to each other, before Soda and Sadie dared Lucy and Dally to get married, and before Lucy and Dally had Elenore. When they lived in the same neighborhood, they could still close their eyes and imagine that they were in Sadie's old room at the Curtis house, reading from _Pride and Prejudice _and talking about how one day, they might write books of their own. How would they ever pretend that things were the same when Lucy lived on the other side of the country? It was another reminder that they were women, and they'd been women for a long time. It was another reminder that their lives would always be intertwined, but they would not always be close by.

"I guess I'm just in a bit of denial," Lucy said. "It's like every time I think I'm ready to say goodbye to this place, I remember that there's one thing in it I don't think I'll ever be ready to say goodbye to. She's my best friend. I never really had a real friend before I met her. It was almost like my dad got the job at TU not so that he'd have a tenured job but so that I could meet Sadie."

Dally narrowed his eyes at his wife, feeling a bit left out. Off his look, Lucy laughed.

"And you," Lucy said. "Don't get me wrong. I know we ended up here so that I could marry you and have Elenore. But Sadie was first. Sadie gave me you. And I'm just not ready to give that up and start over. I don't want her to feel like I'm giving her up, either."

"You ain't," Dally said. "You and Sadie are gonna be best friends no matter where one of ya lives. That's just the way it works with the two of you. It's just like when Soda was off in Vietnam, and Sadie was all afraid he was gonna forget about her while he was there. He never did. It's the same thing, only instead of Sadie and Soda, it's you and Sadie."

"But Sadie's the common denominator here. I don't want to hurt her."

"You're gonna. Life's about gettin' hurt time and time again, Bennet. I thought you knew that."

Lucy sighed. She did know it. She just never thought it was fair when it was really happening to her. It was easy to know it when she was writing a paper about a novel, but it wasn't easy when she was living it … when her heart was breaking at the image of her best friend's face as Lucy and Dally drove off toward the East Coast on that impending, fateful morning.

"You're gonna hurt," Dally said. "Both of ya. Tell ya the truth, I ain't so crazy about havin' to leave Johnnycake behind. But it's what we gotta do if we wanna get what we want. And this is what you want. Sadie gets that. Johnny gets that. We all get it."

"I know."

"Well, good. Then stop actin' like such a dope."

Lucy laughed again and kissed her husband quickly. He loved it when she did that, but he never told her so out loud. He was afraid it would make him seem weak. But to know that Lucy cared for him enough to kiss him quickly with the same affection as kissing him slowly … that was the best.

"C'mon," Dally said. "Let's get this shit in the trunk and go pick up Elenore. Bet she's goin' out of her mind at your folks' house."

"My parents can be fun!" Lucy objected.

"Yeah, if ya like books and readin' books."

"I do! And Elenore does. And so do you, if you remember where this conversation began."

"I was hopin' you forgot."

"I never forget anything. It's a superpower."

"You gonna forget to tell Sadie we're movin' the day after Darry and Lynnie's wedding?"

"I'm gonna try not to."

"Yeah, yeah."

And then, they were gone. But Great Books was not empty.

Just a few minutes before Lucy and Dally had come downstairs and before the shop closed, Johnny had arrived at the store. He was looking for a copy of _Agamemnon _for Ponyboy, as Johnny had written some notes in the copy he borrowed and didn't want to have to give Pony a defaced book. When Eddie told him they were close to closing time, he added that it was all right for Johnny to stay back, since he was such a good friend of Lucy and Dally's. He trusted Lucy to check Johnny out and lock up like she would on any normal evening.

Johnny was deep into the stacks of classical Greek literature when he heard Lucy and Dally make their way downstairs. He saw that Dally was carrying a big box, and he heard that they were in the middle of what sounded like an important conversation. Johnny didn't want to interrupt his friends, so he hung back in the middle of the shelves and listened. He thought he'd find his way into the conversation at some point, but it just kept going. The longer it went, the more easily Johnny was able to blend into the shelves and the walls. Johnny had always been good at blending in.

As soon as he heard Lucy and Dally leave the shop and lock the door behind them, Johnny stepped out from behind the shelves. His world was reeling at the thought of having to say goodbye to Lucy, Dally, and Elenore many weeks before he had prepared. His world was reeling at the thought of Lucy and Dally keeping their move a secret from the rest of the gang. What was he going to do? What was he going to say to Dally next time he saw him?

What was he going to tell _Sadie_?

He quietly slipped _Agamemnon _back on the shelf, found the spare key underneath the welcome mat, and locked up the store, like he had never been there at all.

* * *

"I have to say, I did not expect you to call so quickly."

Blossom stretched out across Katie's bed, the perfect combination of sleepy and alert. Mrs. Mathews was working late, Two-Bit was with Laura, and Katie had the house all to herself (and Blossom). She pulled her shirt back on and muttered something about why she'd called, despite the fact that it had only been two days since the two women ran into each other on the bus.

"I thought I'd need to wait at least three to five business days before my line rang," Blossom said. "You always seemed like the kinda girl who likes to play hard to get, Katie Mathews."

"Well, I ain't," Katie said. "Hard to get, that is. But I'm not … that doesn't mean I'm easy."

"I think that's exactly what it means."

"I didn't choose my words very carefully."

"Choosing your words carefully seems like almost the same thing as lying, don't you think?"

"No. And you … you stop that!"

"Stop what?"

"Stop sayin' shit that makes ya sound so smart."

"Why? When we wrote letters, you used to like that. You used to say it reminded you that you're allowed to be smart, too."

"Well, I did like it. And I still do. But it's different."

"How in the hell is it _different_?"

Katie took a deep breath. It was the one thought she'd had since she and Blossom ran into each other on the bus, and in those short days, she'd been too afraid to admit she had it. Of course, all her life, Katie had been too afraid to admit too many things. So, she bit her lip and let it go. It was out of her hands and out of her mouth before she really knew it.

"You're gonna leave," Katie said. "And if you're gonna leave, I don't think I wanna be left with all these memories of how tuff you are. It ain't fair you gotta live in Texas, and I gotta live here. It ain't fair at all."

Blossom giggled as though Katie hadn't said anything serious. She looked at Blossom, perplexed.

"Why are you laughin'?" Katie asked. "Ain't it true?"

"Oh, honey," Blossom said. "You really don't give yourself much a chance to be bright. I gave you a number, didn't I? A number with a Tulsa area code?"

"Well, yeah. But I don't. Guess I figured it was a hotel number or somethin'."

"Katie, if I was only stayin' in a hotel, I wouldn't have given you the phone number. I'd have made you a copy of my key."

It was then that Katie Mathews turned redder than she'd ever been. Lilly and Two-Bit would have laughed their asses off if they were there to see their little Katie, turning into an ass before their very eyes.

"Uh …" Katie stammered, but Blossom waved her hand in the air and diffused the awkwardness. She was so good at that. Maybe it was because she was so beautiful. Beautiful people, Katie thought, must never feel awkward. That was why Lucy and Jane seemed to just glide through life, while she and Sadie were always tripping over shit they couldn't see in the middle of the road.

"I figured it was obvious," Blossom said. "Tulsa, Oklahoma just got a whole new resident, and her name is Blossom McCourt."

Katie smirked a little. When Blossom asked her what was the matter with her face, Katie's smirk turned into a full-on Cheshire grin. She knew in that moment she looked exactly like Two-Bit. It was comforting. Her brother had been back from the war for two years, but they'd been irreparably distant since. It was nice to feel connected to him again. It was nice to feel similar.

"Your last name," Katie said. "I almost forgot it."

"That makes me feel real special, ya know that?"

"Oh, relax. I didn't … well, after we stopped writin' so much, it became a lot easier for me to start to forget things about you. Figured you were never comin' back, so I might as well stop pretendin'."

Blossom sat up and pulled Katie onto the bed with her. She kissed her lips hard and fast, and though Katie felt nervous at first, she gave into the sweetness and softness of Blossom's mouth before she could think too much about it. She had been dreaming of feeling Blossom's kiss again for what felt like decades. Now that they were together again, it was difficult for Katie to think about much else. She nearly forgot about Lilly's pregnancy and Two-Bit's upcoming engagement to someone other than Lilly. All that mattered was Blossom – kissing Blossom and holding her until they both decided they could never leave the room as long as they lived. Katie had been with a few other women since that night she spent with Blossom McCourt in Austin, Texas, but none of them ever held a candle. Now, after an afternoon with her, Katie knew they never would.

"Why are you here, anyway?" Katie asked. "You seemed to really love Austin."

"I did," Blossom said. "I really loved it."

"Then why'd you go? I know you didn't come here 'cause of me."

"No, I didn't, though I have to admit. You're quite the perk. I'm here 'cause I decided ya can't do much with a bachelor's degree in anthropology. Not much except wait tables, anyway. So, I'm here gettin' my master's. Still in anthropology. Still not the most employable broad in the world. But happier."

"There are so many smart girls out there," Katie mused. "I never knew there could be so many smart girls."

"You hook up with a lot of smart girls since we last saw each other, Ms. Mathews?"

Katie's ears turned bright pink.

"I'm only sayin'," she said. "My friend Lucy just graduated from college only yesterday. And my brother's girlfriend graduated from college yesterday, too. My friend Carrie got a full ride to TU, and none of us even realized she was smart till she waved the letter in our faces. But not in a braggy way. In a figure of speech kinda way."

"I got it. Thanks."

"My friend Sadie – now there's a girl who could've been smarter if she could afford it. We ain't allowed to say that in front of her because it's a sore spot, especially with Lucy movin' out to New York to become a professor or somethin', but she's every bit as smart as anyone who's in college. When she was in eighth grade, she got double promoted to high school English classes. And you probably think I'm the dumbest person alive for thinkin' that's impressive, don't ya?"

Blossom giggled, sat up, and kissed Katie Mathews right on the mouth. When their lips parted, Katie felt dizzy. She'd been kissed a number of times since that first night she spent with Blossom after her graduation from high school, but no one could make her feel as lightheaded as Blossom could. No one could make her feel quite so beautiful … so worthwhile.

"I know you're not dumb," Blossom said. "I wouldn't be seeing you if I thought you were dumb. Some straight girls like a good, dumb guy to screw around with, but I don't play that way with women. Never have. And from where I stand, I don't think I ever will."

Katie, in all her anxiousness, missed Blossom's nuance.

"And besides," Blossom said. "You're dodgin' my question. You hook up with a lot of smart broads when we were livin' far away from each other?"

Katie shrugged.

"One girl was average," she said. "I met her when me and Lilly went to visit Carrie at school. Not too far away from here, but it ain't like we could've been together. She had a boyfriend."

"It happens. Nobody likes it, but it happens. Hard for women like us to be ... well, women like us. Of course, you know that. Hey, would it happen to be that straight girl you spent your whole life being secretly in love with?"

"Naw."

"Oh. Pity. What happened to her?"

"Married."

"Typical."

"I'll say."

"I hooked up with one other woman," Katie said. This time, her voice was low and slow. She'd never told anyone about this one – not even Lilly, who would have squealed on her so fast it would have made everyone's head spin, especially Two-Bit's. "I'd known her a little bit for a little while. Friend of a friend. Her name's Marcia. She ain't a lesbian. She's bisexual. Probably gonna marry the guy she's seein' now. She's from the _other side of town_."

Blossom nodded.

"The _rich _side," she said.

Katie grimaced. They all knew that was the qualifier, but that didn't make it any easier to say.

"Yeah," she said. "Well, a couple of my friends have known her for years. She and my brother get along real good when they first met. Both got the same corny sense of humor. But Marcia's real smart. She just graduated from college, too. She's got a degree in history and wants to be a lawyer or somethin'. I don't really know. It was hard to keep in touch with her, if for nothin' else 'cause she's rich, and I'm not."

Blossom nodded.

"It happens," she said. "But there are a couple of things you should know right now."

"What?" Katie asked.

And just like that, Blossom kissed Katie all over again. Just like that, Katie was dizzy all over again.

"I'm not rich," Blossom said. "And I'm not going anywhere."

And until the hour before Katie's mother made her way back home, that was true.

* * *

In the year since Soda had been back at home and back inside the house where he grew up, the Curtis siblings (and their respective spouses and significant others) had agreed to sit down to dinner in the old house every Sunday. So, on Sunday, May 3, that was what they did. It was business as usual.

Of course, it was business that Sadie didn't particularly love. While she did love to spend those few cherished hours with her brothers, and Darry was a fine cook (better by the day, really), she did not love that they – the real Curtis siblings – had not come up with the idea. Instead, the idea was the brainchild of Jane Curtis and Lynnie soon-to-be-Curtis. This was not their home, not really. So, why did they get to decide what happened in it?

They'd been having these dinners since June 1969, about a month after Soda's return from the war. Lynnie and Jane had the bright idea that each week, a new person should decide what they wanted to share with everyone else for dinner. Sadie wanted to point out that that wasn't really fair, considering the making of the dish would always fall to Darry, but Lynnie and Jane wouldn't hear it. They were too busy falling into a fantasy of domestic bliss that was never really theirs. It was never really there to begin with. You couldn't have domestic bliss with a Curtis brother. You could be happy, but happiness and domestic bliss weren't the same thing. Sadie knew that. She'd been young when her parents died, but she knew what they had was far from domestic bliss.

In some ways, she thought, it was better than that.

That week, it was Soda's turn to pick the dinner, and she picked spaghetti and meatballs. Darryloved to make spaghetti and meatballs – mostly because the spaghetti part wasn't hard, and the meatball part was pretty fun. Sadie remembered when the four of them used to make meatballs together when she was a teenager. She remembered how they'd just take turns yelling, "Meatball!" at one another until they were all done making them. She remembered how that wasn't really funny at all, but it always made them crack up. She remembered how Pony used to put the radio on, and they'd dance like they weren't in a tragedy, after all. Maybe the new Curtises still did stuff like that. Sadie, of course, wouldn't know.

That night, as she sat down next to Johnny at dinner, she thought she'd pull him aside and ask what he thought of creating some new family traditions for Michael – just for the three of them (and their new baby, whenever she would arrive). It wasn't that she resented being away from her old life as the one and only Curtis sister. She missed it. She was nostalgic for it every now and again. What she felt wasn't resentment. It was disconnection. And that scared the shit out of her.

It scared the shit out of her to see Jane sit in her old seat like it was nothing. What would happen to them all in a year? Would they forget that Sadie had ever been part of the family? Would they forget that she had ever lived in that house? Would Soda …

She looked over at Soda, who was quietly twirling spaghetti onto his fork. He looked just about as lost as Sadie felt. She knew it. She knew it, and yet, now that they had once been so far apart, she wasn't sure if she knew how to find him anymore.

At the same time Sadie looked at Soda and saw that he was getting lost, Soda looked at Sadie and felt the same thing. They didn't make eye contact, but they didn't need to. The Curtis twins could sense each other even with oceans between them. Of course, for the past year, Soda had felt like he wasn't great at sensing Sadie anymore. She was different because she was a mother. He was different because he was a soldier. They used to be able to pull each other out of the swamp and protect each other. Soda remembered. He remembered it every night before he fell asleep overseas.

When Soda and Sadie were about eight years old, they became very anxious that they were in separate classrooms at school. They'd been separated in all their earlier classes as well, but by the age of eight, they had grown close enough (and aware enough) to panic that they had to be apart for that many hours in a day. So, one afternoon after school, about a week into the first semester, they were playing in the backyard and decided they'd "do magic" to ensure that they always knew the other was watching over them, even when they were apart. Soda asked Sadie to lie down in the middle of the driveway. He looked around for something he could use, and finally, he plucked a spider from the bushes and placed it on Sadie's chest. She panicked a little, but she didn't flinch. She trusted her twin too much to flinch.

"What are you doin'?" Soda remembered Sadie asking.

"It's part of the magic," Soda said. "It don't work if the spider don't touch ya."

"But why did ya pick a _spider_?"

"I don't know. It's here. Point is, any time ya see a spider when I ain't around, you'll know it's me, lookin' out for ya."

Sadie beamed.

"Hey," she said. "That's kinda nice."

"I know," Soda said. "That's why I came up with it, dummy. Now, let's switch, and you can put the spider on me."

But as soon as Sadie sat up, the spider ran away, and neither twin could fetch it again. They chased it for minutes on end, which felt like hours, but they could never find it. When their mother came outside to get them for dinner and asked what they were doing, they explained, almost like it was a normal thing for kids in the 1950s to do. Frances Curtis hung her head at the sight of her children that late afternoon.

"Dammit, kids," she muttered. "Do ya _want _the rest of the neighborhood to wrap you in chains and throw ya in the water?"

"What?" Sadie asked.

"Never mind," Mrs. Curtis said. "Get inside and wash up for dinner, would ya?"

The twins nodded and listened to their mother, but they were both disappointed that they couldn't find that spider so they could do the same spell on Soda. As they pretended not to look at each other from across the room on that Sunday evening in 1970, they had no idea they were both thinking of the same story from their childhood. Moreover, they had no idea they were both thinking of the same story from their childhood for very different reasons.

Sadie had seen a number of spiders when Soda was away. Soda, however, hadn't seen any.

It was Jane who pulled them both out of their memories.

"I gotta tell ya," she announced to the table. "I sure was surprised when Soda asked for spaghetti and meatballs this week."

"Yeah, so was I," Darry said. "What's up with that, little buddy?"

Soda shrugged from behind his mostly full plate.

"Dunno," he said. "Just sounded good for a change."

"But you hate change when it's food," Ponyboy said. "You like a food routine. You're a steak guy when it comes to dinner."

"When we can afford to make it for ya," Darry added.

"Which couldn't have been tonight," Lynnie said. "With the wedding, we've just been spending so much."

Sadie tightened her grip on her fork and wanted to fall through the floor all over again. Thankfully, Johnny (who was excellent at sensing Sadie in his own right), put his hand on his wife's knee to try to get her to calm down. He was trying to calm himself down, too. It had been hours since he learned that Dally and Lucy were lying to them all about the day they were moving, and he still hadn't decided whether or not he should be the one to tell Sadie. It was easier not to do anything now. Johnny knew better than to upset Sadie during one of those Curtis family dinners.

"So, Darry, Lynnie," Jane said. "You two kids come up with a first dance song yet?"

"Of course they have," Ponyboy answered for them. "The wedding's in less than two weeks. They have to know. I'd know."

"You would?" Carrie asked.

"Well, yeah. Wouldn't you?"

"Yes, because I am responsible and organized. You're a bit of a mess, and I mean that with all the love in my heart."

"And I agree with you, with all the love in mine. But I can be organized when it's somethin' artsy, like music or dancin'. Ask Soda. He knows."

Everyone's eyes floated over to Soda, who barely looked up from his plate. When he finally realized that Ponyboy had asked him a question, he looked up a little more and nodded.

"Pony loves music," Soda said. "I remember when he was younger, and the four of us would make meatballs in the kitchen. He always picked the music. He had a whole dance routine to 'Jailhouse Rock.'"

Ponyboy's ears turned bright pink, and Carrie squeezed his shoulder.

"I wasn't the one who came up with it," he said. "Two-Bit taught it to me."

"You remembered it," Darry said.

"Yeah, yeah."

"As it happens," Lynnie said. "Darry and I did pick the song for our first dance."

Jane clapped her hands together in girlish glee. Sadie wondered if she was still bitter about the song she danced to with Soda on the night of their courthouse wedding. "A Whiter Shade of Pale" couldn't be romantic, no matter how hard the romantic Jane Randle Curtis tried to dress it up.

"Oh!" Jane said. "Are you gonna tell us, or are you gonna surprise us?"

Sadie stabbed her plate with her fork. It was intentional, and Johnny knew that. Instead of putting his hand on her knee like he normally would, he leaned in and whispered to her.

"You gotta calm down," he said. "You don't wanna cause a fight before Darry's wedding, do ya?"

In a way, Sadie wanted nothing more than to start a fight. Maybe if she could fight with her family – the safest people to fight with, as she knew from twenty-one years of living with (or near) them – she could get all the anger out of her system. She could be angry with them and forget about the person she was really angry with. It wasn't like she was allowed to be angry with Lucy. You couldn't be angry with your best friend for pursuing her dream.

"I need to go check on Michael," Sadie said.

"He's only just fallin' asleep. You can wait a minute."

"But we need to flip him over. That's what the doctor said."

"Not three minutes after he falls asleep, Sadie."

"Are the two of you doing OK?"

Sadie and Johnny broke away from one another and looked at Lynnie, who'd just asked them the question. It took all the strength in the world for Sadie not to roll her eyes. She didn't know why she was being so immature. After all, she was a mother now, and it was a mother's job to act like an adult. She knew that. Her mother had always done her best, even if she _did _slip up every now and then. If only she could ask her mother about what to do now.

If only she could ask _Lucy_. But she couldn't talk to Lucy anymore – not without breaking down into ugly, uncontrollable sobs, and she didn't want that. The last thing Sadie wanted was to look weak, especially in front of someone who was so strong.

"We're OK," Johnny said. "Just gotta go check on Michael in a minute."

Lynnie nodded.

"Well, if you can spare a second or two," she said. "Darry? Do you want to tell them what our first dance is going to be?"

Darry beamed. It was the happiest Sadie could remember seeing her older brother since the day Soda came home. Poor Darry. He must have really believed Soda would come back the same. Sadie knew better. She hadn't received the gritty wartime letters, and she was the only one who seemed to know better.

To think that Lynnie Jones could make him that happy was … well, it _was_.

"Lynnie picked," Darry said. "It's gonna be 'Love Can Make You Happy.'"

Jane and Sadie looked at each other. It was one of those moments that was becoming increasingly rare between them. They were in agreement. And in that moment, they were in agreement that "Love Can Make You Happy" was the worst first-dance song for a guy like Darry.

So why did he look so _happy_?

"Wasn't that real big last year?" Ponyboy asked.

"Yeah," Carrie said. "I remember when we were out with Cherry and her brother. It came on the radio. She really liked it."

"Sounds about right."

It sounded about right that Lynnie Jones would like it, too. She wasn't like the rest of them. She was from one of the coasts. She was intellectual … privileged in a way that even Lucy couldn't imagine. Lucy had spent enough of her life in Tulsa and in the old neighborhood to be quite as precious … quite as prim and popular. It made Sadie think. When Lucy moved to New York and became one of those coastal intellectuals, would she change? Would she still like to get down and get greasy? Or would she stand in the corner at a mixer and forget all about the way she used to live?

Sadie thought she felt Soda's eyes on her from across the table, but she was too afraid to look up and see if she was right. She'd gotten so terrible at sensing him. It would hurt too much to be wrong again.

"Lynnie really loves the song," Darry said. "And I really love her, so as long as we're dancin' together … that's good enough for me."

Lynnie grinned at Darry, and for the briefest flicker of a moment, Sadie understood why that was the song they must have picked. It didn't sound a thing like Darry, but perhaps the title spoke to him more than the cheesy lyrics or the ethereal composition. In all the years since the accident … in all the years that Darry had grown older and older … he deserved a love that would make him happy.

And maybe it was pretty tuff that it was with Lucy's cousin.

After awhile, Sadie got up from the dinner table to go check on Michael. He was sleeping soundly, even as Sadie turned him over. She thought about the small smile on his face, wondering if he was in the middle of a pleasant dream. The longer she stared at his face, the more she realized it. Though Michael looked so much like Johnny, there was something about the way he smiled … softly and kindly … that looked so much like Soda.

Sadie was going to turn around and leave, but as soon as she did, she saw Soda standing behind her. She jumped, startled out of her skin.

"Soda!" she hissed. "How long have you been standin' over me like that?"

"I don't know," Soda said. "Maybe a minute."

"Well, for the love of God. What are you doin' in here? It's a little bit creepy."

"I just … I don't know."

Sadie tried to push her way past him. She wanted nothing more than to have that heartfelt talk with her twin … the one they'd been putting off for about a year, since he officially returned back into the fold. But she couldn't. She wasn't feeling up to it. Besides, she didn't want to talk to Soda when she was busy thinking about how angry she was with Lucy. Soda would just beg her not to be, and she needed to be around someone who would accept her unrighteous indignation.

Maybe she'd pull Pony aside before she and Johnny left for the night.

Soda didn't let Sadie past. He blocked the door, and she would have been angry. She would have been angry with him, but he had that tender look on his face. Sadie was shocked. It was the first time in what felt like forever that he looked like Soda, not the soldier who took over Soda's body.

"Did you notice?" he asked.

"Notice what?" Sadie asked.

"The dinner. Tonight. The one I picked."

She paused for a moment, and then she nodded. Her eyes began to sting. She didn't think he would have committed such a silly thing to memory. After all, in all those years, he was the one who had better and more interesting things to occupy his mind. She was so happy he'd remembered.

Spaghetti and meatballs was what they'd had for dinner on the night they tried to do magic.

* * *

"What if no one likes me?"

Slowly, Dally sat up in bed, looking over at Lucy. She'd been up and alert for some time. The worry lines around her mouth spoke as much.

"What?" Dally asked.

"In New York. At NYU. What if no one likes me?"

"That's ridiculous. You already know the professors like ya. They accepted ya. You talked to that one broad your old man know over the phone. Said she was real excited about you joinin' the class."

"That's just one professor. Besides, she knows my dad. She has to say nice stuff about me."

"Nobody's gotta do anything, Bennet."

"Either way. What if no one likes me? What if I go into class, and I don't make a single friend? What if I don't even make an _associate_?"

Dally sighed. He knew what this was about, but he wouldn't push it.

"Never stopped ya in the past," he said. "You've never been too great at makin' friends. You made it far enough before ya moved here and finally made one."

"Yeah, and one turned into more than I ever could have imagined," Lucy said. "And what am I supposed to do now? Start over? I don't _want _to start over with a bunch of new people. I want to go to New York. I want to go to school. I want to do what my dad does. But I don't … I don't want to meet new people. I don't want to sit in classes with new people. Not when I can't run over and talk to …"

She inhaled sharply. It was the only way she could keep from crying. She didn't want Dally to see her as weak, no matter how long they'd been married … no matter how many times he'd proven to her that he thought she was strong.

"She's the reason any of this is happening," Lucy said. "Without her … without _Sadie_ … I wouldn't know you. I would still be living with my parents. I wouldn't have the guts to move all the way to New York. She was my friend first. If she hadn't been my friend, I would just be angry. I wouldn't be tough. I'd just be pissed. And there's a difference between them. You know that better than anyone."

Dally nodded. If he were a more sentimental man, he would have told Lucy that he didn't understand the difference until he met her and saw how effortlessly she struck the balance. She was a hell of a woman. But Dally didn't need to tell Lucy that. Somewhere, and not very deep down, she knew that. She'd always known that.

"She gave me the chance to have any of this," Lucy said. "Without her, I wouldn't have even been in the place to have Elenore, and I can't imagine my life without my baby."

"And she can't imagine her life without you. That's what happens when you're somebody's old lady, I guess."

"Funny. But I'm serious. If I hadn't met Sadie, my life wouldn't have turned out the way it did. And my life is pretty fucking great. And this is how I repay her? By moving away and hardly ever seeing her for the rest of our lives? How is that fair?"

Dally shrugged. He leaned over and kissed Lucy's cheek – a rare tender moment from the most notorious hood in the old neighborhood, even to that day.

"Most things usually ain't," he said. "This is one of 'em."

Lucy sighed. She knew she should tell Sadie the truth about the day she was going to leave right away, but she couldn't make herself do it. She felt too guilty – for keeping the secret and for leaving the person who made it all possible. Lucy had never had a friend before Sadie Curtis. Leaving her wasn't the same as _leaving her_. On some level, Lucy knew that. Sadie would love her no matter where they were.

So, why was it so hard to say goodbye, when goodbye was as fleeting as the end of a phone call?

"I'm so scared," Lucy said.

"I know you are," Dally said. "But that don't mean we're doin' anything wrong."

It was true, but that didn't mean Lucy was ready to accept it.

And maybe Dally wasn't as ready as his coolness made him seem.

* * *

**I thought I might get this done and up today, and **_**I did! **_**Yay! My life is just so crazily busy right now. I know I only have a few readers, but I still don't like to really keep all two and a half of you waiting!**

**Hinton owns **_**The Outsiders**_**. "Love Can Make You Happy" is a cheesy song by Mercy from 1969, which I of course do not own. I own a number of Halloween cards with the Bride of Frankenstein on them.**


	4. Chapter 4

"I taught her how to read the calendar," Dally said when Lucy walked through the apartment door after a shift downstairs in the store. He was sitting with Elenore on his lap, who held a flimsy paper calendar in her hands.

"Fascinating," Lucy said. "Have you taught her to read _Candide_?"

"Naw, but she's gettin' there," Dally said. "Hey, Elenore."

"Yes, Dad?" Elenore asked.

"Can you read the date for your ma? So she can see that I know how to teach a thing or two, like her old man does?"

Elenore nodded.

"May the Fourth," she said. "It's May the Fourth."

Lucy smiled a bit.

"Nice work, Elenore," she said and made her way into the bedroom to pack up another box of things she wasn't using in the apartment. Confused, Dally chased after her.

"What the hell?" he asked. "You're just walkin' away from that?"

"You heard our daughter," Lucy said. "It's May the Fourth. On May the Sixteenth, we're leaving for a whole new part of the country. We don't have a lot of time to waste."

"You didn't want to pick up a box three days ago," Dally reminded her.

"Well, that was before. Now … now I just want to pack it up and go. No looking back. No regrets. The sooner I power through this …"

She looked down at her hands, as she was attempting to strip the bed and pack up their comforter and sheets. Dally took the blankets out of her grasp.

"The sooner ya pack up the wrong shit," he said. "Lucy. C'mon. What's goin' on?"

"You already know," she said. "We talked about it last night. I just … I don't think I can leave Sadie. I don't think I can bear to see the look on her face when we pull out of town. That's why I don't want to see it at all. I want us to get out of dodge in the middle of the night, almost like we were never here at all."

Dally rolled his eyes. He thought very highly of his wife, but she could be dumb as hell.

"Well, we can't fuckin' do that, man," Dally said. "We're part-a this thing, and we gotta own up to that. It ain't gonna be fun to leave the rest of these guys, but we gotta. For you."

Lucy nodded. She knew Dally was right. She also knew that it always broke her heart when Sadie Lou Curtis cried, and oh boy, how Sadie Lou Curtis would cry.

In all honesty, Lucy thought it would almost be _worse _if Sadie didn't cry when she left. Lucy knew that Sadie would miss her. They would miss each other like hell. But there was every chance Sadie wouldn't fall apart now. Maybe she would have when the girls were eighteen and nineteen. But now, they were women. Now, they were wives and mothers with lives that converged and diverged in the peaks and valleys, no matter the blocks or states between them. Lucy didn't see Sadie everyday anymore. She didn't even _talk to _Sadie everyday anymore. Granted, they still saw each other more frequently than many adult pairs of best friends. Lucy didn't even know if her own parents had ever had friends, what with how frequently they moved in support of Jack's search for a tenured job. But Sadie very much had her own life – a life that didn't necessarily include Lucy. She would miss her, of course. But she might not fall apart.

And that cut Lucy to the bone. It cut her to the bone that they'd never be able to get their youthful closeness back. She couldn't explain it, and she knew it sounded vain and shallow. But it was still a fear – that Sadie would miss her, but she wouldn't miss her enough to cry. She wouldn't miss her enough to want to go back to the old days, when they would lie parallel to one another on Sadie's bed, wondering what it would be like to be the age they were now.

Now they knew. It was _surreal_.

"And what the hell?" Dally asked, pulling Lucy out of her anxiety. "Elenore just read the fuckin' date off the fuckin' calendar, and you shrug it off like it's nothin'!"

Lucy shrugged again.

"I don't know," she said. "I guess I just expected a little more from her, that's all."

"A little _more _from her? She's three years old!"

"I know how old my daughter is. I'm the one who put my feet in the stirrups and pushed her out of my body. You paced around the waiting room and tried to duck out, if you'll recall."

"Yeah, yeah, Dally's a fuck-up. That ain't news, sweetheart. Not the fuckin' point. She's three years old, and she's readin' dates! Most kids her age can't read shit, ya know! My sister couldn't read till she was eight!"

"Everyone learns to read at different speeds. I just figured Elenore would have moved onto some short picture books by now."

"By _now_? She's three! How old you were when you started readin' short picture books, huh?"

"I was two."

"I don't believe you."

"You can go ahead and not believe me, but that doesn't make me a liar."

Dally smirked at Lucy. There she was, all right. His girl – the one he might have married even if he hadn't been dared. He swallowed hard. He'd had that thought before, but he never allowed himself to finish it. Not until he saw her standing there at the Dingo, looking at him like she could take him down. She could, too. He wouldn't even need to let her. Lucy Bennet could take Dallas Winston in a fight, and she wouldn't even need to break a sweat.

He never told her anything of the sort. For one thing, he wasn't stupid, and he knew that if he mentioned something about his wife taking him down in a fight, she'd assume that they were about to brawl. For another thing, he didn't need to tell her how tough she was. She already knew. To tell her would have been to patronize her.

So, he walked over to her and kissed her instead.

She frowned, but both of them knew it was to cover up a smile.

"You're going soft," Lucy said. "Softer than a motherfucker."

"Motherfucker's hard," Dally said. "Thought you knew that, bein' smart and all."

"You think you're smart, too, don't you?"

"Oh, I know I'm smart. That's why we got married, ya know. You're the only one who can keep up with me."

"Oh, please. Everyone knows it's the other way around."

"You keep tellin' yourself that. But we all know what's true."

Lucy laughed, but it wasn't enough. Her anxiety filled the room again as she thought of the look on Sadie's face when she found out the family had escaped in the middle of the night after Darry and Lynnie's wedding. She couldn't deal with that even if it was only imaginary. Her smirk turned to a horrified gasp, and Dally stood by and listened. Over the years, he'd gotten pretty damn good at that.

"What if I'm too Southern now?" she said, evidently covering up her real concern. "What if we get back East, and everyone labels me … _Southern_?"

"Would that really be so bad, Bennet?" Dally asked. "South's just a place."

"It's _just a place _that fought on the side of slavery!"

"And you think people will think you're some kinda plantation owner? You talk all day about liberation and equality. Plus, you don't got a Southern accent. People will think you're one of them in no fuckin' time."

"I guess."

"So, what? You worried they're gonna make fun of your hick husband, huh? Or your hick kid?"

"That's not what I'm worried about at all. I just … what if they think I'm racist?"

"Everybody's racist, Bennet. You taught me that."

"What if they think I'm _extra _racist because I've lived in the South since I was fourteen? Those are formative years."

"You're losin' your mind."

Dally walked over to Elenore, who was still messing with the pages of the calendar. When he bent down to pick her up, she let out a high giggle. That caught Dally off guard for a moment. The giggle didn't sound like Lucy, and it sure as hell didn't sound like him. And all of a sudden, he knew where Elenore must have learned to giggle.

But how could that have been? Dally hadn't heard Soda laugh – really laugh – since before he left for the war. Maybe Elenore was the only person who could make him smile. Maybe it was easier to talk to Elenore because he thought she couldn't possibly understand. That would be foolish. After all, she was Dallas Winston's daughter, and Dallas Winston was no fool. What made anyone think his daughter would be?

"OK," he said. "Elenore. Ya wanna tell your ma she's losin' her mind?"

Dally angled Elenore's face so that it directly faced Lucy's. It took all the self-control in the world for Lucy not to burst out laughing. Elenore may have looked just like Dally when she was frowning, but when she was grinning; she was her mother in every way.

"Ya losin' your _mind_," Elenore said.

Lucy let out a laugh, leaned forward, and kissed Elenore's nose. Elenore giggled, which took Lucy aback this time. She looked at Dally, who was clearly thinking the same thing.

"She sounds like …"

"I know. Jane said somethin' about Soda only bein' able to laugh in front of our kid. I don't get it."

"I do."

"Well, then, explain it, Bennet, please."

She took Elenore out of Dally's arms and held her tightly on her own. Elenore beamed to be with her mother. Though she didn't quite remember all of the details of the year Lucy went dark, Lucy sensed that Elenore could sense something. She was smart. More than that, she was Soda and Sadie's goddaughter. Surely, she'd learned most of her empathy from watching them.

And then, suddenly, Lucy wondered.

"Elenore," she said.

"What, Mom?" Elenore asked.

"Do you know where we're going soon?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, we're not going to live in this apartment above the bookstore anymore. We're not going to live in Oklahoma. Do you remember where we're gonna live?"

Elenore nodded.

"New York City," she parroted. "We're goin' there 'cause you got a job."

"Yes, that's right," Lucy said. "Do you know what it means to move far away?"

"Not really."

Lucy and Dally exchanged glances of regret. They had been so busy thinking about themselves and their friends; they'd forgotten to explain to Elenore what it would mean to move away from the only place she'd ever known. For too long, the two of them had assumed that because Elenore was so young, the move would have very little bearing on her. They were about to realize, of course, that they had been very, very wrong.

"OK," Lucy said, trying to keep calm, though she wanted to burst into tears. "Well, it's like this. You know how we see somebody fun almost everyday? Like most days, you see Grandma and Grandpa? And some days, you see Darry and Lynnie and Pony?"

"And I play with Sadie and Soda," Elenore added. "Sadie sometimes lets me hold Michael, even though I'm not that big. I like Michael. He's so little and cute."

Lucy gulped. That was what she was afraid of.

"Yeah," she said. "Well, when we move to New York City, we won't get to see everybody everyday anymore."

"Why not?"

"Well, because they'll be far away."

Elenore frowned. Dally had to look away. He didn't want either one of his girls to see that the expression on Elenore's face was enough to break him on the inside.

"Why?" she asked. Her voice was so little. It reminded Lucy that she was still only three years old, no matter how smart and articulate she had already learned to be.

"They have to stay here," Lucy said. "Just like we've got things to do in New York, they have things to do here. They can't just leave their things and come with us."

"But they should."

"It feels like that, doesn't it?"

"They should come with us."

Lucy held Elenore closer and kissed the top of her head. Dally still couldn't look at them. In that moment, for a reason he barely understood, Elenore became Violet.

"I wish they could," Lucy said. "But we're going to visit. And if we're really lucky, everyone will come to visit us, too."

"Can't we just pick _one _of them to come with us?"

Lucy tried to laugh, despite the fact that her heart was breaking.

"I wish we could, baby," she said. "But it doesn't work like that. And it won't be all bad. You and me and your dad … we'll all be together in the new place. We'll learn to be there together. And Dad's already lived in New York, so he can really help us out."

That was when Dally finally looked at Lucy. He shot her a look, as though he couldn't imagine why she'd say a thing like that. She knew how difficult it was going to be for him to be back in New York when New York only reminded him of his sister. Why wasn't she coming with them, anyway? It wasn't like she had anything better to do in Tulsa. Violet would thrive in Manhattan. They liked tough girls better around there.

Lucy looked at Dally like it didn't matter what they thought or felt anymore. They'd forgotten to consider their own daughter's feelings in the move, and now, she was the only thing that counted. They would still move, of course (even though parts of both them wanted and needed to stay), but the only thing that mattered was how Elenore would deal with being far away from home.

"Are you sure we can't take _somebody _with us, Mommy?" Elenore asked one more time. She was practically begging.

"We can't," Lucy said. "Our new place only fits three people, and we're the three."

Elenore sighed heavily.

"Who do you wanna take with us, baby girl?" Lucy asked. "Do you want to take Aunt Violet?"

Elenore shook her head, which offended her father for the briefest flicker of a moment.

"I wanna take Soda," she said. "He said somethin' about not bein' able to spend enough time with us. He seemed sad."

Lucy and Dally looked at one another again. Neither of them was sure about how to feel, so Lucy kissed the top of her daughter's head one more time.

"You're a wonderful little girl," Lucy said. "Can you run in the other room for a minute and play the 'Elenore' record that Darry and Lynnie got you for Christmas when you were really little?"

"OK," Elenore said. "Will you be back there?"

"In a minute."

"OK."

Elenore climbed down her mother's lap and scurried into the other room. A few seconds later, Lucy and Dally heard the music on the other side of the door.

_You got a thing about you / I just can't live without you / I really want you, Elenore, near me …_

Dally stood over Lucy, anger coursing through his body. He wasn't angry with Lucy, of course. He was just angry – angry that Elenore was sad and angry that things were changing more quickly than, as it turned out, he would have preferred. But, as always, he knew where to take it out.

"I can't fuckin' believe him, man," Dally said.

"What are you talking about?" Lucy asked.

"You know damn well what I'm talkin' about. Fuckin' Sodapop Curtis. Tryin' to fuckin' … _manipulate _my daughter into feelin' bad for him. Ain't our fuckin' fault he missed out on a year of her life. Can't just stay behind for him. No fuckin' way."

"Dally, Soda was not trying to manipulate Elenore into feeling sorry for him."

"Like hell."

"He wasn't. I know he wasn't. He just … he doesn't have anyone to talk to right now."

"So, he picks our three-year-old daughter? She ain't his best buddy. She's his damn goddaughter. There's a fuckin' line, especially when she's three damn years old."

"This isn't about Soda. Though I'm starting to think the two of you still have some things to hash out."

Dally looked toward the ground and glared. He flashed back to the days before Soda shipped out and the time Soda told him that there were times he really hated him. Dally still hated himself for that. After all, Soda had a point. What gave Dally the right to skip out on the war? What gave Dally the right to have a kid and to love that kid like he'd never loved anyone else? He hated himself because he knew the answer. Without Soda's interference, Lucy and Elenore never would have happened. Dally got off scot-free because of Soda, and Soda had to suffer because of Dally. How could he not be angry after that?

"Elenore didn't know what it would mean to move away," Lucy said. "All this time, I've been worried about me. I've been worried about you. I've been worried about _Sadie_. I never stopped to think about my own daughter. I'm a terrible mother. I'm no better than I was the year I went dark."

"That ain't true," Dally said. He moved to sit beside Lucy.

"It's like I forgot about her."

"You didn't. You talked to her."

"What if it was too late? We're leaving in a few _days_."

"She'll forgive ya. She's more you than she is me."

Lucy almost laughed. She took her husband's hand, and he let her. They just sat like that for a minute. They just sat like that until the song on the other end of the door began to fade out.

_Elenore, gee, I think you're swell …_

* * *

Though Johnny Cade was a small, light man, he felt heavy as he walked around with Lucy and Dally's secret on his shoulders. It had only been about twenty-four hours since he heard the Bennet-Winstons discuss their secret plans to move right after Darry's wedding, but it was eating him up. He wasn't sure if he should confront Dally and ask him why they were keeping it a secret. Dally sure was different now that he was a husband and a daddy, but Johnny could still picture his anger if he found out (or if it seemed like) someone had been listening in on his private conversation with Lucy. Maybe Johnny didn't care. The secret was too heavy to carry for much longer, and he had come close to telling Sadie more times than he would care to admit. Lucy would have his head for that. He was sure.

Lucy Bennet. As Johnny walked down to Jay's to meet up with Lilly at the end of her shift, he thought about his friend's wife and laughed. He remembered when they were both still in high school, and he thought he might have a crush on Lucy. At the time, it seemed about right. Lucy was attractive, smart, and self-assured – all the things Johnny was quite sure he wasn't and never could be. His brief attraction to Lucy hadn't been so much about wanting Lucy as much as it was about wanting to be more _like _her. In his heart, he knew he'd always really loved Sadie. But Lucy was a force. She was like Dally. Johnny laughed to himself again. Those two were always headed for each other, even before they had the faintest idea the other existed.

He turned the corner and walked through the front door at Jay's. Sure enough, there was his kid sister, punching out for the evening. Katie Mathews was taking over for the rest of the night. Before Lilly saw that her brother had entered the building, she was happily chatting with Katie.

"I hate that we're always workin' opposite schedules," Lilly said. "It's like I never talk to you anymore."

"Ah, it ain't like that," Katie said. "We both got Saturday night off."

"And where are you gonna be? I ain't been able to get hold of you for days in a row. It's like you don't even remember me anymore."

"Maybe Katie don't remember you," Johnny said. "But I sure do."

Lilly beamed when she saw her big brother at the counter. She was so looking forward to the conversation they were about to have … and dreading it at the same time. By the look on his face, Lilly knew Johnny had no idea of what he was walking into.

"Johnny!" Lilly said. "Oh, boy, am I ever glad to see you."

"Somebody had to be, I guess," Johnny said. "Hey, Katie."

"Hey, Johnny," Katie said. "You mind tellin' your sister there ain't no way I'd ever forget her?"

"Well, I would, but she's right," Johnny said. "You been hard to pin down these past couple of days. Ya skirted outta Lucy's graduation dinner faster than I've ever seen you move before. What're ya hidin', Kate?"

Katie blushed. She wanted to tell both of them about Blossom. She wanted to tell _everyone_. Finally, the woman she could never get out of her head was in Tulsa, and she was in Tulsa to stay. But this still wasn't the right time. She wanted everyone to be in a good mood when she told them that she was in love, and since she knew that Lilly was about to tell Johnny about her pregnancy, she also knew this wasn't the right time.

"I'm figurin' out how to win a million dollars," Katie said.

"Fair enough, then," Johnny said.

"Katie, we're gonna take the booth in the very back," Lilly said. "You mind bringin' me a glass of water and a Coke for Johnny?"

"You don't just get to pick your server, ya know," Katie said. "There are rules. Pickin' your server is anarchy."

"It would be, but I saw the plans for tonight. The very back booth is in your section, anyhow. So, we're gonna take the very back booth, you're gonna get us our drinks, and we're gonna give you a good-lookin' tip."

Jovially, Katie rolled her eyes and headed for the kitchen. Lilly smiled, took her brother's hand, and led him to the very back booth. This was serious business. Suddenly, Johnny was well aware of that.

"Somethin' the matter, Lilly?" he asked.

Lilly shrugged as she took her seat across from him.

"I don't know," she said. "I thought maybe. But now … now I don't know."

"Well, that don't make a lot of sense. Why don't ya tell me what it is, and I'll see if it's somethin' to be worried about."

Slowly, Lilly exhaled. She balled her palms into fists. For one reason or another, she hadn't expected the conversation to go by this quickly. Then again, maybe she should have. After all, this was Johnny, and Johnny liked to keep things simple. His thoughts weren't simple, of course. He was every bit as smart as Ponyboy, who always gave him books to read when they were only kids. He had never done too well in school, but that didn't mean anything, especially not in their neighborhood. But Johnny didn't like to draw things out. He didn't like to make things longer than they needed to be. Waiting made him anxious. Cutting to the chase – that was what allowed him to breathe easier. Usually, Lilly was more sensitive to that than anybody, except for perhaps Sadie Cade herself. But when it was time for her to let go of the secret that was swallowing her up inside, she wanted to drag it out. In that moment, Johnny's anxiety was no match for hers.

"I don't want you to worry," she finally said.

"Dammit, Lilly, did you forget who I am?" Johnny asked, only half laughing. "I'm your brother. I was worried before I was born, man. I'm worried now. And I'm only gonna get more worried the longer it takes you to tell me what's the matter."

Lilly sighed again. She hadn't realized how hard this was going to be.

"You're gonna judge me," she said.

"No, I ain't. I'm your brother."

Lilly nodded. That was enough. Johnny had never judged her negatively before – not even when she was turning sixteen, and she turned up in Two-Bit's bedroom early in the morning, and everyone made their various assumptions. Why would he judge her now?

Because now, there were consequences.

But he was Johnny, and he was sweet and generous and sensitive. He had a baby all his own now. He knew what it meant to be a parent – the _good _kind of parent who loved his kid no matter what and looked forward to seeing him when he got home from work each evening. He would surely love her child just the same.

"OK, fine," Lilly said. Her skin was so cold. It felt like it was moving of its own accord, and Lilly didn't care for that one bit. "I went out about a month ago and went to bed with a guy I didn't know. As it turns out, I'm not the most careful drunk in the world. I take after the old lady in that way."

"Don't make jokes about that," Johnny said. It was one of those rare times he was stern with his kid sister. "You ain't nothin' like her. But are you tellin' me…?"

"That I'm knocked up?" Lilly asked. "That I just turned twenty years old, that I ain't married, that I'm knocked up, and I ain't got a clue who the father is? Yeah. Yeah, that's what I'm tellin' ya, Johnny, man."

Johnny looked like he might be sick, which made Lilly sick all the same. She could tell he wasn't angry with her and that he wouldn't pass judgment. But he knew what this meant. He knew what it meant for Lilly, and he knew what it meant for himself and Sadie. This wasn't just going to be poor Lilly's responsibility. He and Sadie were going to have to pitch in, too. That was what family did, and if there was one thing Johnny had learned from watching the Curtises as a kid, it was that you didn't turn your back on your family. And even when you did, it wasn't for very long. He looked at Lilly and knew he couldn't turn his back on her – not then and not ever.

Before he could say anything, Katie walked up to the table and handed Lilly her glass of water and Johnny, his Coke. Lilly pointed at the glass in front of her brother and said, "You know, they say Coca-Cola is supposed to settle upset stomachs sometimes. It was kinda my plan for when ya found out about me."

Katie's eyes nearly popped out of her head.

"You already told him?" she asked.

Johnny pointed his straw in Katie's direction.

"You already told _her_?" he asked, twice as incredulous.

"It doesn't matter who knew what before who," Lilly said. "Point is, ya both know now. Thank you, Katie."

"For what?" Katie asked. "Interrupting you?"

"I don't know. You gave us drinks. A 'thank-you' is usually in order. And now …"

"If I could please leave you alone?"

"If you could please."

Katie offered another jovial eye roll and went back into the kitchen. She hoped the tip would be better looking than Marilyn Monroe in _The Seven-Year Itch_. That would be a nice one.

Johnny leaned forward in the booth as though Lilly had a dirty secret to protect. And, in a way, she did. Despite the fact that the times were changing more rapidly than anyone could keep up with, and despite the fact that unmarried pregnant women were about as common as fruit flies in their neighborhood, there was still that air of judgment on everybody's faces when they learned the truth. It was why Soda's ex-girl was sent out of town all those years ago and why he finally ended up with Jane. Hell, Lucy had been married for nearly a year when she got pregnant, but everyone still looked at her like she was some kind of licentious demon because she was so young. Johnny didn't want the same thing to happen to Lilly. She was his sister, and he wanted only the best for her. So, like any good father, he entered into crisis mode and tried to help her come up with a plan.

"Alright, Lilly," he said. "You're sure you don't know who the father is?"

Lilly shook her head.

"And it ain't Two-Bit, if that's your follow-up," she said. "I wouldn't do that to Laura Lubbock. No matter how much I don't like her."

"You don't like Laura Lubbock?"

"Keep up."

"Right. Sorry. Uh … well, then, we can't ask anybody to marry ya, can we?"

"I ain't gettin' married, Johnny. That ain't how this is gonna work. It's not 1959 anymore."

"But it ain't some kinda liberated future, neither. Ya gotta stop takin' Lucy's word for it sometimes."

"Lucy knows we ain't liberated. That's why she's goin' to school. To make sure we can be one day."

"That ain't the point. There's nobody to marry ya. So, ya gotta go at this alone. How're ya gonna keep workin'? Where are ya gonna live? Our folks ain't gonna take a baby in."

Lilly looked down at the floor. It had only been a few days since she learned that she was pregnant, and she hadn't thought about any of that. It had only been a day since she told Katie how scared she was. She hadn't had time to think about how she could be homeless before she ever found out if the baby was a boy or a girl. She hadn't had time to think about how maybe, she wouldn't be in shape to have the baby at all. Her heart sunk. All of a sudden, she became very aware of how much she meant it when she said she wanted to be a mom at Elenore's first birthday part. She became very aware of the fact that this was her chance, and she didn't want to throw it away. How could she afford it if she didn't want to throw it away?

She didn't need to wonder for very long. Before she could open her mouth to eke out a weak response to Johnny's questions, he was helping her.

"I have to talk to Sadie," Johnny said. "You know we don't live in a very big house of our own. But my boss has got his eye on a new place for us. Bigger. Closer to where he lives and wants me to work. Says he'll work out some kinda deal with the rent and my pay. And since you ain't got nowhere else to go …"

"You have to talk to Sadie," Lilly said. "I wouldn't let you make this kinda offer to me without talkin' to your wife first."

Johnny nodded.

"I will," Johnny said. "But she loves you. And she's a Curtis. She knows what ya do for family, 'specially when family's up a creek like this."

Lilly looked down at the ground again. Up a creek. She didn't want to be up a creek. She wanted people to be happy that she was going to have a baby of her own. It was expensive and scary and seemed impossible, but she didn't want anyone to forget that it was going to be a baby one day. And if it was going to be a baby one day, she was going to figure out how to take care of herself. This didn't have to be up a creek. This could be … it could be almost a victory.

_Almost_.

"Aww, hey," Johnny said, off his sister's dejected look. "I didn't mean … look, we're gonna take care of things. We're gonna make sure you're healthy and safe and that you can have that baby. I just meant it must be scary as hell to be you right now. I can't even imagine. When we found out Sadie was pregnant with Michael, it rocked our world, and we … we knew what was comin' for us. I can't even imagine how scared ya must be."

Lilly nodded.

"It gets scarier and scarier every second," Lilly said. "And I ain't got nobody to talk to about how it feels to be knocked up without a husband. Lucy and Sadie had Dally and you. Only broads I knew in my place were Sandy and Angela Shepard, and they're long gone. Angela's pretendin' like she ain't even Angela anymore."

"You're gonna be fine," Johnny said, even though he couldn't promise it. It was easier to think about a happy ending than a tragic one. "I'm gonna take care of you."

"Promise me you'll ask Sadie," Lilly said. "Don't tell her what to do. Ask her. I don't wanna step in on her home like I don't belong. If I'm gonna live with y'all, I want Sadie to want me there. I don't want to take up a space that's hers."

"I'll talk to her," Johnny said. "I promise."

Lilly tried to smile, but it was too unnerving. She took a long sip out of her water glass and wondered what the next few hours would bring. It felt like torture. It _was _torture.

When Katie came back by the table to ask the Cade siblings if they wanted anything to eat, Lilly promptly ran to the bathroom to throw up for the fourteenth time that day. It seemed only right.

* * *

Of course, Sadie immediately agreed to Johnny's request to let Lilly live with them and take care of her soon-to-be-baby. Johnny wasn't at all surprised. It was part of why he'd always loved Sadie. She could be a tough girl, just like any girl from their neighborhood, but at her core, she knew how to be kind. She knew how to be compassionate. If Lilly needed a place to stay and get well, Sadie was more than happy to open up her home. But even in her willingness to give Lilly something that she needed, Johnny could sense a sort of sadness on her behalf. He walked over to where she sat on their bed and sat with her, wrapping his arm around her whole body. She was taller than he was, but that never stopped him.

"What's the matter?" he asked. "Do you want me to tell Lilly she can't stay here?"

"No," Sadie said. "No, of course not. Lilly is absolutely welcome to stay with us. I want to help take care of her, too. She's family."

Johnny nodded. Maybe it was selfish, but he was glad Sadie wasn't going to change her tune about his kid sister, the first person he ever knew how to love.

"It's just that it's gonna change things," Sadie said. "I mean, you and me … just yesterday, we were talkin' about havin' a second baby."

"I remember," Johnny said. "I remember tryin' for one last night, as a matter of fact."

"Yeah. But that's not … we can't try for that anymore, can we? We can't wish that last night was what it took. Now that Lilly's comin' to stay with us, we gotta put our stuff on hold, don't we?"

Instead of saying anything, Johnny took Sadie's face in his hands and kissed her like he almost never did. When their lips broke apart, Sadie stared at him, a little stunned.

"Lilly's Lilly," Johnny said. His voice was firm – a rarity. It was the only way he could keep from going out of his mind, what with Lilly's secret and the secret he knew about Dally and Lucy. "She might need a roof over her head, and we might pitch in and help her sometimes, but she's Lilly. She's got a job. She can get a second one. And she ain't half as alone as she feels right now."

Sadie nodded.

"Oh, Lilly," she said. "I can't even imagine."

"Yeah, me neither. But that ain't the point. The point is, Lilly is Lilly, and we're us. We don't gotta put our lives on hold just 'cause Lilly needs a place to stay for a little while. She's tough. She'll figure it out. I know she will, and I think you do, too."

"Your sister's always been strong. I don't think anything's really gonna change that."

"It ain't. She'll figure it out. And while she figures it out, you and me can go right on bein' you and me. Does that sound alright to you?"

This time, it was Sadie's turn to kiss Johnny like she almost never kissed him.

"I think we can make a few arrangements," Sadie said. "How about right now?"

Johnny almost grinned.

"Right now sounds perfect," he said. "Lemme go put Michael to bed."

It was the best thing he could have said – that night, especially, of all nights.

* * *

"Do you think I should be offended that Lynnie didn't ask me to stand up in the wedding?"

Ponyboy turned to look at Carrie, who was sitting across from him in the Curtis living room. Darry and Lynnie had taken Jimmy to visit his Aunt Esther and Uncle Jack while Soda and Jane were out on a date like they were still kids. That left Pony and Carrie alone in the house. It took Darry a minute to be OK with that, but Lynnie reminded him that his baby brother was soon to be nineteen years old. Maybe, for once in his life, he didn't need supervision at every hour of the day.

"Besides," Soda had joked on his way out of the house. "Carrie keeps him in line. She's like a really pretty babysitter."

"That's just the visual I wanna have for the rest of my life," Ponyboy had said. "My girl as my babysitter. Thanks, Soda."

"Just doin' my job."

It was a rare moment in which Soda felt like Soda … the way he was before. Carrie knew that Ponyboy was really coasting on that playful moment between the two brothers, so she knew not to bring it up (or really bring up Sodapop at all, actually). Talking about Soda made Ponyboy feel like he was still far away. It made him upset. And there was nothing Carrie Shepard hated more than when Ponyboy Curtis was upset.

"What are you talkin' about?" Ponyboy asked. "I thought you were a bridesmaid, same as Lucy and Sadie and Jane."

Carrie shook her head.

"Naw," she said. "I'm invited to the wedding, obviously, but I'm not standing up in it."

"Well, all the sense that makes. You spend all your time over here. You and Lynnie know each other real good by now, don't ya?"

"I thought so. Hell, I know so. I even sort of asked her about it a little while ago, and do you know what she said?"

"I almost don't give a damn. Don't want to start my big brother's marriage pissed off at his wife."

"But don't you want to listen to the way _I'm_ feeling?"

"Aww, shoot, Carrie. You know I do. I'm sorry. What did Lynnie say?"

"She said somethin' about only family."

Ponyboy's ears turned pink – half with anger and half with embarrassment. He was oblivious, but as he got older, his common sense began to take some sort of shape. As much as he wanted to pretend like he didn't understand what Lynnie could have been talking about, he knew. And as much as he wanted to pretend like Carrie hadn't used this moment in time as a segue into the same conversation, he knew. He was affable enough to keep the ball rolling. Well, no, that wasn't quite fair. He loved Carrie enough to keep the ball rolling. That was the way it was. Why was he so proud? Why couldn't he just admit it? All his life, he'd had his romantic head stuck in the clouds, pouring over poetry about love and women and romance. Now that he had a woman he loved and wanted romance, he couldn't make the words come out right. It didn't make sense. No matter how hard he tried, it was like he had a cork in his throat, keeping the words he felt from becoming real words between his teeth. Maybe it was all the smoking.

"That don't make any sense at all," he said. "Sure, Lucy's related to Lynnie, and Sadie's our sister and whatnot. But Jane? Jane ain't part of the family the same way Lucy and Sadie are."

Carrie rolled her eyes. Ponyboy had never realized just how dark and beautiful her eyes were before. He had, of course, but there was something about them in that moment – something he couldn't bring himself to narrate.

"Ponyboy," Carrie said, exhaustion in her voice. "Come on. You know why Jane's part of the family, and I'm not. Jane and Soda are _married_. You and me … we're just steadies."

Ponyboy turned even pinker than before. Carrie almost chuckled. For as much as she loved him, she had to admit, it was a great joy to watch him squirm.

"Well," he said. "That don't … that don't mean Lynnie gets to count you out. You're still my girl, and …"

"And what?"

"Well, I just don't want ya to be left out. That's all."

Carrie felt her heart sink. Even though she and Ponyboy had been together _for real _for quite some time at that point, there was still a large part of her that worried he was going to bail. In the past, he'd always bailed. He bailed when they were kids, and they were each other's first kiss at the movie theater. He bailed when they were older, and they spent Valentine's Day together only to have forgotten it by February 15. Ponyboy Curtis had an ugly history of bailing on Carrie Shepard when things began to resemble the poetry he so loved to read and write. Why couldn't he just write it about her? Why did she have to be different? Was it because she was a Shepard, and she was the one supposedly hardwired to bail? Was he afraid of her because he was afraid of her family? She never knew. He never opened up. He never told her. Maybe she was pushing too hard now, and maybe he would still walk away, leaving a trail of philosophical novels in his wake. But Carrie was tired of playing it passively. She was tired of judging on the sidelines. It was time for her to be an active player in her own love story. She was not a melodrama. She was Carrie Shepard, and there was something to said about that – and it wasn't all bad, either.

"Look, I don't want to push you," Carrie said, and it was only halfway true. "It took us forever to get where we are right now, and I don't want to scare you off."

"You can't scare me, Carrie," Ponyboy said. "I thought you could, but I was wrong. I get it now. It took that fuckin' jerk Joey to make me see it, and I wish it hadn't taken that long. But I see it now. And I ain't lookin' away."

Carrie wanted to blush, but she steeled herself instead. She was no shrinking violet. Of course, Violet was pretty big and flourished.

"I just …" she started, biting her lip, even though she didn't want to be that way. "I wonder. Do you ever wonder?"

"Sure I do," Ponyboy said. "I wonder all the time. I'm always writin' and readin' and drawin'. You know that better than anybody."

"No, no," Carrie said. "You're not understanding me. I ain't talkin' about how you wonder intellectually or artistically or philosophically. I mean … do you ever wonder about what's gonna happen with us?"

This time, Ponyboy didn't turn pink. He was whiter than a proverbial ghost. Carrie wanted to die and become a ghost herself, but then, the kid surprised her. He was known for that, sometimes.

"Sure I do," he said again. "I guess … I guess I been wonderin' about that since I was a kid. And I guess I kinda always knew it'd be me and you."

This time, Carrie really did blush.

"But I ain't Dally," Ponyboy said. "I ain't gonna sign a marriage license when I'm eighteen years old, if that's what you're askin'."

He furrowed his brow.

"Do you realize how fuckin' crazy that sounds?" Ponyboy said. "I ain't Dally. I ain't gonna get married too young. Ever see that comin' when you were a kid?"

Carrie laughed.

"No, of course not," she said. "Tim about died when he found out. But that isn't the point. The point is … you don't just think we have to end? You think we could keep it going?"

For the first time since Carrie started the conversation, Ponyboy smiled. A flood of relief washed over Carrie's entire body, and she relaxed for the first time in what might have been months.

"Of course I do," Ponyboy said. "Ain't nobody in the world tougher or prettier than you, Carrie."

Carrie grinned in spite of herself. It wasn't quite the level of poetry she expected from the guy who spent all of the eleventh grade reading Byron, Shelley, and Keats, but it was a start. She'd take it. For now, she would take it.

* * *

Soda had taken Jane to the Dingo like they were still teenagers. Maybe that was what Soda wanted to be. Jane grinned and didn't complain. In truth, she was just happy to be out with her husband. They almost never went out. Most nights they spent in front of the TV or holed up in their bedroom, giving Darry, Lynnie, and Jimmy the living room to themselves, like the family they were about to become. Jane asked Soda once why Lynnie had given up her former home to live with all of them in the Curtis house, which had always struggled to fit six people inside of it, even when the Curtis folks were still around. Soda shrugged and said that it was important to Darry to live where he became a man. She wanted to ask Soda where he thought he became a man, but the question seemed much too loaded for a night in the middle of the week when Soda was exhausted after a double shift down at the DX.

She wasn't quite aware of the movie she was watching. She knew it had something to do with science fiction, and Ponyboy probably would have liked it since he was going through a bit of a science-fiction phase. But Jane wasn't interested. Neither was Soda. Instead, they sat outside together, hand in hand, staring straight at the screen without a moment to process what it was they were actually watching. When Jane saw Soda's eyes begin to glaze over, she let go of his hand and fished around in her purse. He looked down to see what she was doing, mostly unconcerned. He was mostly unconcerned with a lot since he had been home. Finally, Jane found it – her compact.

Without much thought, she opened it up and looked at as much of her face as she could. She wondered if she was beginning to look old. Perhaps not, she thought. She wouldn't turn twenty-one until July, and that was when people started to look old, she thought. Sadie was twenty-one now and barely recognizable from when they were teenagers. Lucy, God help her, was on a swift path to turning twenty-three, which felt older than Methuselah to Jane. She treasured her place as the middle child in her group of friends. But then, almost without realizing it, she swallowed hard, almost choking on her shocked saliva. Maybe she'd been the _middle child _out of all her friends once before, but as Johnny said before, none of them were children. They _had _children.

But Jane didn't.

It bothered her, despite the fact that she liked her still-youthful face when compared to Lucy and Sadie, who always looked run ragged with motherhood and other responsibilities. With school, marriage, and Elenore to tend to, Jane wondered if poor Lucy ever slept. But even though she knew how exhausting it would be to be a mother, Jane wasn't so sure she cared. She'd spent her whole life wishing and hoping to start a family with Sodapop Curtis. Now, they'd been married for nearly a year, and they never even talked about a family. It broke Jane's heart to know she'd gotten so close to that fantasy she used to have as a little girl only not to have it at all. Maybe that was the way the world really worked. Then again, she seemed to recall that Sadie had a big crush on Johnny Cade when they were all little kids, and she got to marry him. She got to have the adorable little family with him. Where was the justice for Jane? Why did her fantasy have to be so _cold _in the end?

She hated herself for thinking that way. Soda might have been back for a year, and that might have seemed like a long time to everyone around him. But Jane was his wife. She knew better than that. For Soda, time was moving at a speed that none of them could really understand. She tried to ask Two-Bit and Steve about it, but they didn't have any good answers or advice. The best advice came from Steve – a rare moment between brother and sister that felt sincere, not forced by blood or by their mutual love for Sodapop Curtis. He leaned over to his kid sister and said, "Everybody moves through hell at their own pace. I'm just zoomin' through. But Soda … he's laggin' a little. Ain't his fault. Ain't my fault. Hell's on a different schedule for everybody who's been there and can't get out."

Jane tried to take it to heart. She tried everyday. Most days, it worked. Some days, she was impatient. Unfortunately, this – their one date in what felt like (and might have been) years – was one of those days.

She looked at her reflection in the compact and sighed.

"What's the matter?" Soda asked, suddenly very present in Jane's fold of reality.

"I don't know," Jane said. "I'm wondering about my hair."

"What about it?" Soda asked. "It's beautiful. Jeez, Jane. I thought you knew that."

"I guess I do. I just … sometimes I look at it, and it dawns on me. I'm just a bottle blonde."

"But it's a good look for ya. Who cares if it comes from a bottle?"

"No one, I suppose. I just wonder what it would be like if I hadn't just figured that the only way to be beautiful was to be a blonde."

Soda frowned. He didn't understand where Jane was going with this, but the sinking feeling in his gut told him that in a moment or two, he'd be on trial for something he never did. In the end, he wasn't entirely wrong.

"You could go back to havin' dark hair if ya wanted," Soda said. "But I was always pretty sure you _liked _bein' a blonde. There's somethin' so … Jane about it. Like it's always who you were supposed to be. A pretty blonde girl. _My _pretty blonde girl."

If Jane had been less determined to give her husband the third degree about where their marriage was headed, maybe she would have turned scarlet and let the conversation end there. But it wasn't one of those nights. Jane needed an answer. She needed to know if she was ever going to be a mother, or if she was going to be the woman who looked sadly after babies in the grocery store, wondering what it would be like to hold one close to her chest, rock one gently to sleep … she could have burst into tears just thinking about it. Maybe it wasn't very empowered of her. She knew it wasn't. It didn't change the fact that it was what she wanted. It was what she always wanted. And Jane never did well when she didn't get the things she wanted.

"I wonder if we'll ever have a daughter," Jane finally said, trying to keep her voice steady and calm. "And I wonder if her hair will grow in as dark as mine was before I turned to the peroxide. Will she hate her hair like I hated mine? Or will we do something to make her feel like she's beautiful no matter what she looks like?"

Soda turned bright pink. He couldn't determine whether he was angry with Jane or embarrassed by what she was saying. Whenever Jane hinted about wanting to have children as soon as she possibly could, it made Soda feel impotent. That was the last thing he needed – the guy who got shot in the leg and lost so much blood it nearly claimed his life. That was the last man in the world who needed to feel impotent, and yet, Jane was a master of getting him there. She probably wasn't aware of that. For as much time as Jane spent around young men when she was growing up, she would never understand what it was like to be male and to constantly question the relevance of your masculinity. But surely she knew that the conversation about children was uncomfortable for him. It wasn't that he couldn't give them to her immediately. He could, and he'd thought about it. And it wasn't that he didn't want children eventually. He did, or at least, he was pretty sure he did. It was that he couldn't bear the thought of coming home to a child right away. He needed to spend time with Jane alone. He needed to get to know his family again. He needed to really meet and understand his goddaughter before he had a child of his own. Soda had been back in Tulsa for a year. But in Soda's mind, that wasn't long enough – not nearly long enough. It still felt false. It still felt like a fever dream.

"Jane," he finally said. "You know I don't wanna talk about havin' kids right now."

Jane looked down at her hands, closed the compact, and forced it back into her bag. She didn't want to put up a fight with Soda. That would have made her seem immature, and if she wanted to show Soda and the rest of the world that she was prepared and equipped enough to be a mother, she had to choose her battles wisely. But was this how she wanted to enter into the next stage of her life? Fighting? Bartering? It didn't seem fair. And yet, to be childless didn't seem fair to Jane. When she was a little girl, she was told that the only way she could ever find her place in the world was to become a wife, which nearly always made you into somebody's mother. Where was that place for Jane? Where was she supposed to stand? She knew that women had been trying harder than ever to branch out and become more than wives and mothers, but what if Jane _wanted _to be a wife and a mother? What was she supposed to do in a world that was telling her she no longer had a place in it?

"It's just a bad idea," Soda continued. "It is right now, anyhow. I ain't makin' a lot of money, and neither are you. We still live under Darry's roof, and things are about to really change for him in the next few weeks here. Maybe one day, when we get a little independence, we can think about it. But now …"

"Now what?" Jane asked, immediately hating herself for taking a harsh tone with someone whose thoughts were perfectly legitimate. She was just too selfish to see them that way. "Now I just try to find my own place in the world? How the fuck am I supposed to do that, huh? I ain't got a college degree. I barely have a high-school fuckin' diploma. They told me that my only option was to get married and to have kids. Well, I walked my way down to the courthouse, and I love you, Soda. I do. I would do it all again. But you gotta understand."

"Gotta understand _what_, Jane?"

Jane took a deep breath. It was all she could do to keep from crying. In truth, she knew she was wrong for going after her husband like this. He wasn't ready to have children, and in the grand scheme of things, neither was she. It didn't change the fact that she didn't understand what it meant to be Jane, a relatively uneducated woman, in a poor part of town, without some sort of kid sucking at her teat. It was wrong. It was every shade of wrong. Jane knew that with every part of herself. But it didn't make anything different. It didn't make anything clearer. She was just as lost that night at the Dingo, as a grown woman, than she'd ever been. And she hated herself for it.

How dare she feel lost? How dare Jane Curtis feel lost when she had nearly everything she ever wanted? She was married to Soda. She had his love, affection, and attention at almost every hour of the day. She had finally escaped her hostile parents' home and was living under the roof that always felt more like home, anyway. There were even days when she and Steve could look at each other and regard one another like they used to when they were little kids – with respect and admiration. How dare she feel lost? Just because she'd been married for almost a year and didn't get pregnant five minutes after her courthouse wedding, like Sadie had? How dare she feel lost? She wasn't the one who was trying to figure out what it meant to come home.

And why hadn't she figured out how to save Soda? That was supposed to be her job, and she was failing. She was failing everything. There didn't seem to be a way to stop it, either. Just freefalling. Failing in free fall. In a way, she just wished she would hurry up and crash. The in-between state was torture. Jane wanted out. She wanted to feel _something_ again, even if it hurt. Maybe that was why she had provoked a fight with Soda that night. Even though they had spent the last two hours hand in hand, it was like he wasn't really there. When he was angry with her, that was when she knew he was home. That was when she knew he was there to stay.

And she hated herself all over again.

"You gotta understand," she tried, though every word sounded emptier and more useless than the one before it. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do."

Soda knew exactly what Jane was trying to tell him. After all, she was his favorite book to read. He wanted to give her everything. He'd wanted it since he was a kid himself (which, these days, was harder and harder to remember). But he couldn't. He couldn't give Jane the things she wanted, needed, or deserved with his bum leg, his bum heart, and his bum soul. As he looked at her, he thought of how easy it would be to hate her. She was asking him for things he didn't want – pressuring him into a life he wasn't ready for, just like she had when they marched down to the courthouse to get married (though Soda didn't actually feel that way – just occasionally wondered whether he should). Jane loved Soda, but she was always more interested in herself. And it really seemed that way, from the outside in. But Soda knew better. He knew Jane better than he'd ever known anybody (well, almost anybody, anyway). It would be easy to hate her. She was being selfish and almost cruel. But it wasn't aimed at her husband. It was never aimed at her husband. Jane was busy hating herself, and it hurt so much, she didn't know where to fire.

But Soda couldn't give her the satisfaction of sympathy. He was still angry – angry with Jane for seeming to put his feelings and fears on the backburner in favor of her own motherly confusion and angry with himself for taking so fucking long to belong back into the world that bore him. Although part of him wanted to reach out, stroke Jane's bottle-blonde hair, and tell her that they would figure everything out soon, that they would know their places in this world soon, he couldn't make himself do it. Even Sodapop Curtis had some semblance of pride. Instead, he stood up and began to walk away.

Jane's heart was pierced with fear. She remembered the hardest time she ever watched him turn his back.

"Where are you going?" she asked. Her voice was suddenly as light as the child she wanted to bear.

"I don't know," Soda said.

"Well, will you be back?"

And with a second's hesitation (too long for both of them), Soda finally nodded.

"Yeah," he said. "I'm your ride home."

He took off, and Jane was left with a little mirror in her hand.

* * *

Late at night on May 4, 1970, Lucy Bennet's phone rang. Dally and Elenore slept through it, but Lucy, ever the light sleeper, did not. She jumped out of bed and picked it up, uncharacteristically unafraid that something terrible had happened in the middle of the night. Perhaps she'd gotten too comfortable in the knowledge that Two-Bit, Steve, and Soda were back at home.

"Hello?" she asked.

"Hey," the other voice began. "I know it's past midnight, but can you talk?"

A grin crept across Lucy's face. It had been years since Sadie Lou Curtis had called her late at night just to talk. The thought was nicer than anything had been in a long time.

"Yeah," Lucy said. "What's up?"

"I don't really know," Sadie said. "Well, I mean, I do. But I don't think I'm allowed to tell you yet. Spousal secrets and all that. You know."

"I do. I don't know it quite as well as 'Sadie, Sadie, married lady,' but …"

"Oh, that's cute."

"I'm cute. Didn't you know?"

"I think I read something about that in one of the fan magazines. Didn't we used to read _Photoplay_?"

"No, Lilly read _Photoplay_. I read _Faust_."

"Ah. The phonetic sounds … they're just too similar."

"There's every possibility that Marilyn Monroe made a deal with the devil, too, you know. You don't get to be that gorgeous and famous without a little blood signature."

"Is that what you're planning to do?"

"Oh, most definitely. Soon as we cross over into Manhattan."

And though Lucy expected the conversation to turn to sadness right then and there, as Sadie had been unable to handle any mention of the Bennet-Winstons and their impending move to the East Coast, it didn't happen. Instead, all Sadie did was chuckle.

"You really are hilarious," Sadie said. "You know that, don't you?"

"Sure I do," Lucy said. "I've always made you laugh."

They spoke until two in the morning, when Sadie's loud cackle finally woke Johnny (but, thankfully, not Michael). As Lucy climbed back into bed with Dally, she realized she hadn't stopped smiling since she picked up the phone and heard Sadie's voice. It was the first taste of a long-distance friendship they'd had – the first taste of the late night phone calls and catch-ups. If they were all that easy, maybe it wouldn't be so hard for Lucy to move and leave Sadie behind.

But nothing was ever that easy – not when you had to leave the first friends you ever had.

* * *

**It's a new chapter by me! And means you an get ready for exciting things, like … talking. More talking. One person drinks water while another drinks Coca-Cola, and they're talking. One person gets out of bed at night to answer the phone for another person for **_**more talking**_**! I'm a riveting writer, I swear. This is the part where I humblebrag about having a master's degree, so I really should be, like, better at this.**

**Hinton owns **_**The Outsiders**_**. This chapter is weird in that it has two mentions of Marilyn Monroe. I quote "Elenore" by The Turtles again, which I, of course, do not own. **_**Faust **_**is an opera by Goethe, which is in the public domain. It's one of Lucy's favorite texts. **_**Photoplay **_**was a magazine in the early-to-mid twentieth century. It was a real hoot.**


	5. Chapter 5

"I'll tell her tomorrow," Lucy said. She was standing on the main floor of Great Books, packing up a box of books she hardly ever read – early American literature. She'd never been a big fan of Transcendentalism. It didn't punch hard enough for her.

"Tell who what tomorrow?" Dally asked.

Lucy smirked at Dally. Maybe Thoreau didn't punch hard enough for her, but Dallas Winston certainly did.

"I'll tell Sadie about our move tomorrow," she said. "You know, the _real _date."

"Mmm. Somethin' tells me that ain't gonna work out."

"Why would you say that?"

"Well, ya gotta own up, Bennet. Your plans don't usually work out as smooth as ya want 'em to."

"I'm a master planner. The best planner, some say."

"That's nowhere but your head."

"And what a fine place it is to be. Except when it's cold, dark, and scary, but it's been awhile since that was the case."

"You don't ever know when to stop talkin', do ya?"

"No, but I pretend like I do."

This time, it was Dally's turn to smirk. It had been over a year since Lucy finally learned she could talk to him, and in that time, he never stopped being quietly thankful he had her back. He'd never say it to her face, of course. That would mean admitting defeat. A small part of him began to wonder what it was that was defeating him if he opened up to Lucy the same way she could open up to him, but he wasn't ready to hear it. There was something pulling him down and making him bite his tongue. He felt the pull toward stoicism and toughness every time he saw Sodapop Curtis limp across the room. It had been ages since he and Soda had had a proper conversation. Maybe it was time for them to start again.

Of course, it might have been too late. Dally was reminded of the date – May 5 – when Lucy taped the box of early American novels shut.

"You got plans tonight?" Dally asked.

"You know I do," Lucy said as she went to pack up another box of books. As Dally watched her begin to sort through her stacks, he wondered if they'd need to rent out storage for all of Lucy's reading materials. She assured him she had an office at school for that. He wasn't sure a tiny New York office was big enough to hold all the things his wife knew and read.

"Oh, right," Dally said. "You're goin' to Sadie's to meet up with her and Jane."

"That's right."

"Suppose I'll have to look after Elenore, then?"

"You got a better idea, _Dad_?"

"Come on. That ain't fair. I was just thinkin.'"

"Thinking what?"

Dally sighed. He didn't want to tell her. It wasn't that he didn't trust her (maybe it was, a little, but who could blame him? He'd never been able to trust anyone until she came around, and even then, she'd emotionally abandoned him for nearly a year.). It was that he'd never let himself be very vulnerable for very long. He was afraid she wouldn't respect him if he turned into some kind of crybaby.

On the inside, however, it was all he ever felt like.

And it pained him to admit, especially to himself.

"If you want to do something on your own later this week, that's fine," Lucy said. "Not like you need my permission, of course. What I'm saying is that I don't have anything planned for myself, and except for tonight, I have no reason not to be at home with Elenore."

"Yeah," Dally said. "Just figured … ya know, I'm movin', too."

"I know that. And I know you want to spend some time with everyone while we're still here. And I'm sorry if you feel like I haven't given you the time."

"Bennet …"

"No, stop. It's not that you only feel that way. It's true. I haven't. I haven't given you the time. I didn't sit down and give Elenore a proper talk about what it means to move to New York City when everyone you love lives in Tulsa. I didn't tell her how far away we'd be going. I haven't done any of the things I'm supposed to do. Look at me! It's May 5, and I'm not even close to being finished with these books! How am I supposed to pack _anything _else?"

Dally frowned. He didn't know what to say, so he led with something he knew was stupid.

"How many books do you have left to pack?" he asked.

Lucy shot him a look of daggers, which Dally knew he deserved. He moved toward the counter that Lucy stood behind, ambling her way through British Romanticism. She raised her shoulders above her ears, embarrassed that things always had to be this way. If Dallas Winston was coming to comfort her, and he still didn't believe in comfort, she must have been more of a mess than she even felt.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean it like that. But, Bennet, can ya cut yourself a fuckin' break? Elenore ain't the only one who doesn't know exactly what it means to pack up and move to New York City when everyone else is still in Tulsa. You don't know what it's like, either."

"I know what it's like," Lucy said, though she knew it wasn't quite the truth. "I've moved around the country more times than anyone we know, except my own parents. I know what it means to move and leave things behind."

"Yeah, ya do. But not like this. You've never lived anywhere as long as you've lived here in Tulsa. Tulsa has been almost ten whole years of your life. And in the next couple of weeks, you won't live here anymore."

Lucy blinked back hot tears. She hated crying. It made her feel weak and vulnerable, and she couldn't imagine anything worse than crying in front of Dally. She'd cried in front of him before, of course. You didn't make it nearly five years of marriage and unexpected pregnancy and not cry in front of your husband, no matter how cool and tough he was. But just because she'd done it before didn't mean it wasn't embarrassing. She knew why Dally had been drawn to her when they were fourteen-year-old kids on the front lawn of their old high school. He saw the toughness in her – a toughness he'd only known in himself before she came around. If she lost that toughness, there was a small part of her that wondered if Dally would still want to be near her. She knew better than that, but there was still that small hitch in her breath whenever she came upon a tear. _What if?_

"You don't have to break it down for me," Lucy said. "I'm calling the shots. I know the plan."

"Yeah, maybe minute by minute. But you don't know what it's gonna be like once we're there. Nobody fuckin' knows. Not even me, and I lived in New York before. One thing I know is that it's gonna take some gettin' used to. And that's why you're movin' so slow."

Lucy bit down hard on the inside of her lip. She wondered if other people's lower lips hurt as badly as hers always did. Somehow, she doubted it. She was always trying to stay cool, and the rage that she'd felt since the day she was born never bubbled up and out like it could if she would just yell or cry or hit something. Instead, she would bite. She would bite in the name of cool. But she wasn't sure how much longer she could manage it.

"I'm a terrible mother," Lucy said. "I should have talked to Elenore a whole hell of a lot sooner than _yesterday_."

"Maybe, sure, whatever," Dally said. "That don't matter right now. You ain't a terrible mother. You know that. A terrible mother woulda walked out a long time ago."

Lucy looked down at her hands. She _did _walk out. That was the one thing Dally never liked to talk about, even more than a year after it happened. Lucy walked out, and things had been better since the morning she came home. But they hadn't been the same.

Did either of them even want them to be?

"You ain't a terrible mother," Dally repeated, maybe more to himself than to Lucy. She noticed. "Neither of us knows what the fuck we're doin'. We're just tryin' to make a life, and we're tryin' to build a kid into it."

"I waited so long to explain," Lucy said. "What if she resents me for the rest of her life because of this?"

"She's three fuckin' years old. She won't remember this a year from now when we're livin' in the city. It'll be her new home. She'll get used to it."

Lucy nodded, and before Dally could hold his tongue back, he said it.

"Me, on the other hand …"

Somehow, Lucy was surprised. Dally had been so calm and collected about the move since Lucy received her acceptance letter in the mail. He'd been there for her every step of the way. It was truly shocking how supportive he was. In all her selfishness, Lucy had almost forgotten that Dally was leaving his home, too. Even Dallas Winston could put down roots. Maybe _especially _Dallas Winston could put down roots.

"Oh," Lucy said, her voice unexpectedly tender. "I can't believe it. In all this worry about myself and Sadie and what people at NYU are going to think of a young wife and mother coming into a graduate program …"

"You got every right to worry about yourself," Dally said. "This move's for you, ain't it? You don't gotta worry about me."

"Yes, I do. I signed a paper that says I do. Granted, I was wearing a pair of jeans that hadn't been washed in a month or two, and I did it on Sadie and Soda's dare, but I take it seriously. I haven't let you feel what you need to feel about the move. I haven't let you do what you need to do."

"I don't _need _to do anything. Tulsa's out. See ya later. See ya never. I don't care."

"That's such a lie. You care. You care so much. You care about _everything_, and you don't want anyone else to see it."

"That's not …"

"True? Oh, but it is. I know because … well, because I see it when I look into the mirror, too."

The two of them stared at one another for a little while, their faces perfectly parallel and their expressions perfectly stone-like. It was the first time either of them thought that they might be beginning to look alike.

"You care about everything," Lucy said again. "It's part of why I could never get you out of my head, even when I wanted to so fucking badly."

"Are you sure it wasn't 'cause I look so fuckin' good?" Dally asked.

"Well, I'm not going to lie and say it _wasn't _a factor."

Dally smirked again. Lucy, feeling rather like an adolescent on the inside, wanted to faint at the sight. She'd always been drawn to that smirk, even when she was too busy telling herself she hated Dallas Winston and everything he stood for. Sometimes, it made her laugh – how blatantly and hilariously wrong she'd been.

"I don't even remember what the fuck we were talkin' about," Dally said.

Lucy smiled a little. She wondered if Dally knew that he tended to overuse the word _fuck _when he was nervous or hiding something from her. After all the talk about moving and what it meant for him to leave Tulsa and hardly even look back, she was quite sure she figured out exactly what he wanted.

"I gotta stay here and work the rest of my shift," Lucy said. "But hang on just a second, OK?"

"What are you doin'?"

Lucy came out from behind the counter and headed toward the poetry shelves again. She combed the titles with her index finger, and since she wasn't looking, Dally thought it would be a good time to have a real long look at her. She was so pretty. She was so pretty all the time, but she was especially pretty when she was in her element. In a stack of books was definitely her element. Once she pulled the right book off the shelf, Dally straightened up, almost like he was never looking at her at all. He knew she'd be embarrassed and pissed if she knew.

Lucy stuck her hand out and gave the book to Dally.

"Here," she said.

He took the book and read the author's name curiously.

"Wilfred Owen," he said. "What's this for?"

"I have to work the rest of my shift," Lucy said. "But Elenore's going to be up from her nap any minute now. When she's up and adjusted to being awake again, take her down to the Curtises with you. Soda's not working today."

Dally almost smiled. Lucy was too smart for him, but he couldn't let her know that. It would just go to her head.

"What do you need me to do with Soda and a book?" Dally asked, though he knew perfectly well what Lucy wanted him to do with Soda and a book.

"Isn't it obvious? When you go to visit him, I want you to give that book to him."

"But he don't like to read."

"He's Ponyboy's brother, and poetry is always on the table. He liked the last book of poems I gave him before he shipped out. Figured he might need another book now that he's home."

"So, why don't you give it to him? Huh?"

Lucy smiled again.

"I think this one will mean more if it comes from you," she said.

"I don't know what that means, man."

Lucy nodded. She wasn't surprised. That didn't mean she was going to let Dally off the hook.

"When one or both of you reads it, you'll understand."

She pointed at the ceiling and toward the apartment above the store.

"Elenore's probably just waking up now," Lucy said. "You better go get her. Don't wanna miss Soda before he heads out to pick up Jane from work."

Dally nodded and headed for the stairs. Lucy watched him walk away, hoping she was a better wife and mother than she felt.

But as she thought about Elenore's devastated expression from the day before, she knew she couldn't be sure, no matter how many books of poetry she gave out to the people she loved.

* * *

"So, now that you're all graduated yourself, what are you gonna do?"

Two-Bit and Laura Lubbock were walking downtown. They'd had a quick lunch at Jay's and were now ambling aimlessly down the street. It was broad daylight, which was usually pretty safe. There was, of course, that time a couple of rough Socs had jumped Ponyboy in broad daylight after he walked out of the movie theater all by his lonesome. But that was when they were all still kids, and now that they weren't kids, there weren't Socs or greasers anymore. How could there be greasers and Socs when there was a real war on?

"What do you mean?" Laura asked.

"Well, ya know. You and Lucy were in the same class. Ya got the same degree in the same thing. She's goin' to school in New York come the fall."

"I'm well aware of what Lucy is doing. We're _all _aware. Professors made a big deal about it. She's the first woman to go onto a graduate program from TU's English department since … well, maybe since ever. They weren't totally sure, but they can assume."

"Yeah, we're all real proud of her. Known her since she was an annoying little shit in the back of her English class in the ninth grade. Actin' like she knew more'n everybody else."

"She _does _know more than almost everybody else. She never stops reading."

"Yeah, but what about you?"

"I don't know what you're asking me."

"Aww, c'mon. You're plenty smart yourself. I think you got some idea."

Laura smiled. She put her hand in Two-Bit's and slowed down both of their strolls. It was true – she _did _have a pretty decent idea of what Two-Bit was alluding to. The pair of them had been together for quite some time. They'd been together much longer than most young women in their neighborhood would stay with a young man without some discussion of getting married. Two-Bit had jokingly brought up marriage to Laura a sizeable number of times since they'd become an item. He liked to say things like, "I'm gonna make _you _take out the trash when you're Mrs. Mathews, honey," and "Shame when we get married, you're gonna have to lose that _Lubbock_. Your name sounds real pretty all strung together like that." His comments were largely in jest, but by the way he looked at her when they walked down the street together, Laura knew that he was serious. He was just serious in his own Two-Bit way. Laura loved that about him.

"Well," she said. "If you remember, I start teaching in the fall."

"That's right," Two-Bit said. "My alma mater."

"And mine, ya stooge. Besides, did you even graduate from there?"

"I graduated! Walked down the stage in that robe same year as my sister, Katie. That was before we knew my sister Katie was a lesbian. Hey, did you know she's been spendin' time with this chick she met in Texas somethin' like two years ago? Found each other again now that Blossom – that's the girl's real name, by the way, fuckin' tuff as hell – is studyin' somethin' or other at TU herself. Real happy for Katie. She hasn't told anybody 'cept me, so if ya don't mind keepin' it quiet. She likes to share her own news, like anybody would."

"That's wonderful for your sister," Laura said, and she meant it. Two-Bit wouldn't have kept Laura Lubbock around if she weren't OK with gay folks. Katie meant the whole world to him, and he couldn't be with a woman who didn't love her (every part of her, including and especially who _she _loved) almost as much as he did. It was strange, and maybe he was a shitty person for it, but before he knew that Katie was a lesbian, he wouldn't have thought twice about whether or not the girl he was dating cared about gay people at all. It wasn't relevant for him until Katie told him about herself. He knew it wasn't fair to suddenly recognize a group of people as real people and not just playground insults when your sister came to you and told you she was one of them. He knew that. It might have taken him forever to graduate from high school, but Two-Bit wasn't stupid. But he knew better now. He'd make sure that if he had kids one day, they'd know better, too.

Judging by the look in Laura's eye, it might not be long before he had a kid to teach to be better than he'd ever been, anyway.

"Yeah," Two-Bit said. "Ain't nothin' better than seein' your sister happy. I'm glad it's 'cause she's in love and not 'cause she just ordered a really fuckin' good cheeseburger. Not that there's anything wrong with a really fuckin' good cheeseburger or nothin'. Just that, ya know. The love thing lasts longer. Or at least ya can hope it does."

"Have you ever started a cheeseburger madly in love with someone, and before you took the last bite, you were suddenly out of love with her?" Laura asked.

"Oh, yeah. You're talkin' about the first four years of my high school career right there."

"Hmm. What happened around your second go-around of eleventh grade?"

Two-Bit thought about the way Lilly Cade looked that night in 1965. His heart clenched, though he'd spent the last few years training it not to. There was something about Laura's question and the feeling of her fingers through his that changed things. He didn't like it, but he knew it was there.

"Dunno," he said and hoped it was convincing enough. "Got old, I guess."

"Hmm," Laura said. "You're not too old to give love another go, are you?"

"I think you know I ain't."

"I know. I just like to mess with you. If anyone understands the importance of messing with someone else, I know it's you."

"You're perfect."

"Hardly, but I'll accept what you have to say as a compliment."

Two-Bit laughed a little, and the two walked silently for a little while. Laura kept awkwardly squeezing his hand, unsure if she wanted to say what was on the tip of her tongue. Both of them could practically hear what she was thinking, so perhaps it was better if she just spoke it. So, she did.

"What's all this questioning about what's next for me when you already know I got a job lined up for the fall?" she asked. "You got plans or something?"

Two-Bit sighed. He was a little disappointed that he wasn't nearly as cool and subtle as he wanted to be, but that was just who he was. He'd always tried so hard to play the part of a cool guy like Dally or Tim Shepard, but at heart, he wasn't that kind of guy. He was as big a dork as Ponyboy – maybe even _more _of a dork. Ponyboy didn't know how to burst out laughing like Two-Bit did, and just about anything made him laugh, even if he was sober (which, in the years since he'd been back from the war, was less and less often). Either way, he knew he didn't have much of a poker face. He especially didn't have a poker face when it came to Laura. She made him giggle like a little kid in a candy store, and he was hardly embarrassed of it.

Of course, there were moments. But Two-Bit went out of his way to avoid the thing that would cause those moments. He knew to leave the past in the past … mostly.

"I might have plans," he said. "Might be takin' you out to dinner."

"What, every night?" Laura asked with a laugh. "I know you, Two-Bit, and I know how much you make. You can't afford to take a girl out _every _night."

"Well, if I can get over that slight to my manhood, I might be able to plan on takin' you out for a real special occasion. But since ya tried to slice my manhood in half …"

"We're a block away from the hardware store. Do you need tape, or should I stitch your manhood back together?"

"Ain't no such thing as a manhood, Laura, and you know it. I'm just playin' ya. Anyway. I'm just thinkin' you should keep your schedule open 'cause ya never know when I'm gonna ask you for an _important _dinner."

Laura's eyes lit up. She'd been thinking about what it would feel like to be proposed to and have a wedding of her own ever since she found her mother's wedding gown in the closet at the age of five. She hated to admit it in her circles at school, since they were filled with women who thought marriage and weddings were archaic traditions and institutions (even the ones who had been married for years, like Lucy Bennet). But it was true.

Things were different now, of course, that she had gone and fallen in love with Two-Bit Mathews. He was a former greaser, but just because he no longer put oil in his hair didn't mean he stopped being a hood (and a poor one at that). He was rich with love and humor and sparkling stories to tell at dinner, but he wasn't exactly the kind of guy that Laura's parents had envisioned for her when she grew up as a girl. He wasn't exactly the kind of guy Laura ever pictured _herself _with, either. When she was younger, she'd always envisioned a proposal at a fancy candlelit restaurant and a summer wedding in a small but charming local church. With Two-Bit, she wouldn't get any of those things. He'd probably take her to Jay's and present her with a ring from the thing next to the gumball machine at the front door that he'd scored on the way in when she wasn't looking. They'd probably still get married in the charming church, but it just wouldn't be the same. And she was OK with that. She loved Two-Bit more than the idea of a glamorous proposal or a gorgeous wedding. She just hoped her parents would feel the same way when they told them the news, whenever it was going to be.

"And you can't give me _any _indication of when this important dinner might be?" Laura asked.

"Tell ya what," Two-Bit said. "How about after Darry and Lynnie's wedding, you start thinkin' about what you might wanna wear to an important dinner. Sound good to you?"

Laura grinned.

"Sounds good to me," she said.

Two-Bit squeezed Laura's hand tighter, and he looked toward the other side of the street. His eyes nearly popped out of his head at what he saw. It wasn't anything unfamiliar, though it was something poorly timed.

Lilly Cade was walking home from her morning shift, and she looked lovely.

* * *

"What about roast beef?" Lynnie asked.

Darry grimaced, and Lynnie groaned. She couldn't put up with this for another minute.

"What?" she asked, very close to losing her temper entirely. "What's the matter with roast beef?"

"Do you think this family is _made _of money, Lynnie?" Darry asked. "We can't afford roast beef on any old night of the week. We gotta _save money _in order to make that … oh, once a year."

"Roast beef isn't that expensive."

"You grew up in the richest area of Connecticut. You think goin' to a Howard Johnson's is cheap."

"It _is _cheap, Darry."

"Dammit, Lynn! I'm trying to make a point, and you just bent it."

Lynnie couldn't help but chuckle. She leaned forward in her seat at the dining room table and kissed Darry quickly on the mouth. She couldn't stay mad at someone as sweet as he was. She hoped she'd be able to keep it up once they were really married.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to make for dinner if you keep turning down all my suggestions," Lynnie said. "I say we should have spaghetti, but you tell me that spaghetti makes Soda sad now. I say we should have meatloaf, but you tell me Ponyboy hates meatloaf."

"He's goin' through a phase," Darry said.

"Of course he is. And now, you think roast beef is too expensive. What are we supposed to do?"

"We could try frozen fish sticks," Darry offered.

"No," Lynnie said. "Jane hates frozen foods. She swears she can always taste the freezer burn on them."

Darry slammed his palm down on the table. It was big enough to make quite the sound, which was enough to scare the living daylights out of Lynnie.

"See?" he asked, pointing at her with an enthusiasm he was afraid he'd lost around his twentieth birthday. "You're doin' it, too!"

"I can't help it!" Lynnie said, laughing all the while. "We have too many people living with us in this house. We're like that Brady family on TV except we're mostly all adults, and we don't have a maid whom we force to live in our house but who must call us 'Mr. and Mrs. Curtis.'"

"You ain't Mrs. Curtis yet," Darry pointed out. "And besides, aren't you keeping your name?"

Lynnie nodded. It was important to her to stay Lynnie Jones this time. When she'd married Big Jim years earlier, she'd taken his name, which turned out to be a mistake. She lost all of herself in that marriage, including the name she was born with – the name of the father and mother who loved her and stood by her in a circle of families that were mostly embarrassed by cheating scandals and divorce. It had been rough to get that name back and even rougher to change Jimmy's last name from what it had been back to Jones. Even though she loved Darry dearly, she'd keep her name. It was a sign that she wasn't forced into anything. She wasn't becoming someone new by getting married or moving into the old Curtis house. She was still Lynnie Jones, an elementary school teacher who wore a lot of pink.

Besides, as Sadie and Jane loved to point out every time she joked about becoming Mrs. Curtis, there was still only room for one underneath that roof. Even Jane herself felt uncomfortable carrying the name in that house. The name might have belonged to her, but the home didn't. You couldn't just be "Mrs. Curtis" and live in that house. That was a mythos no one was prepared to perpetuate.

"That's not the point," Lynnie said. "The point is that we have a very, very small window for grocery shopping today, and there are too many people in this house to feed on the cheap and with something they'll all enjoy."

"Well, then, do what my parents used to do," Darry said. "Make what we can afford or what we have, and if you don't like it, you can go ahead and starve."

"Your parents did _not _do that."

"Oh, yes, they did. Especially when Pony was first born. Dad wasn't making a lot of money – he never did make a lot, but it was especially hard after he suddenly had three boys instead of just the two – and we had to put up with a lot of garbage until he got a little jump in his pay."

"I still don't believe your parents would punish you with food like that. From what I hear, they were about as close to perfect as a pair of parents can get. I mean, what? Were you raised by Mary and Joseph themselves?"

"That's not fair, Lynnie. My parents weren't saints. They were far from it. They weren't too big on church unless it was for something special, like a prayer they really needed to come true or a special holiday, like Christmas or Easter. I remember one time we went to church on a Sunday morning to pray that Soda would get the gum out of his hair that he stuck in it on Saturday night."

"That can't be true."

"Oh, but it is. It worked, too. If you look closely at Soda's head, you can see a scar from where Pony yanked it out. Bled for much longer than we figured he would."

"Darry!"

"What?"

"You've got to be pulling my leg. I hear the way that your siblings and your friends talk about your parents. They talk about your mother like she descended from heaven just to take care of you all. Even Dally loved her."

"Mom did a lot for ole Dally. She fixed him up when he was bruised more'n a few times. She never thought he was quite as shitty as everyone else seemed to want him to be. But she wasn't a saint for doing that. She was a good person, yeah. Dad, too. But they weren't legends like Pony and Soda would have you think."

"But even Lucy would go on about how …"

"Lucy didn't know Mom the way we did," Darry said. "She didn't know Mom the way I did, especially. Mom was always playing the part of herself when Lucy and the other girls were around."

Lynnie nodded, but she couldn't really believe it. It seemed like since she arrived in Tulsa, people were telling her left and right that the Curtis parents were legends around those parts. You didn't fuck with legends. You especially didn't fuck with legends when you were less than two weeks away from marrying their son.

And she had _felt _those legends so deeply since she'd moved into the Curtis house. Every time she went down to sleep in the room that used to belong to Darry's parents, she wondered if she deserved it. She wondered if she and Darry would live in that house forever. He'd already told her that he wanted to, in order to pay homage to his folks and to always offer a place for the people he loved to stay when they wanted to come back home. Lynnie understood that. It didn't change the fact that every time she walked through the door, she wondered if Mrs. Curtis was sitting somewhere in heaven, looking down at her and thinking, "What does this Connecticut girl think she's doing in my house?" It didn't change the fact that the thought of becoming the _new _Mrs. Curtis on the block was terrifying to her. She didn't know the first thing about being a neighborhood matriarch, as everyone seemed to think Darry's mother had been (everyone, that was, except for Darry himself). What if she raised Jimmy on that very block, in that very house? What if she and Darry had more kids, and they stayed in the house, too? Would people look down on her for being there? Would people think she was out of touch because of the way she'd grown up and where she lived before her divorce? Would people think she was worse than Darry's mother because Darry would be her second husband, and the _real _Mrs. Curtis wouldn't have done anything like that? Lynnie wasn't sure her anxieties even made sense. Nevertheless, she had them. She had them every time she saw pictures of her fiancé's family before the accident.

"And what's up with this sudden interest in my mom, anyway?" Darry asked. "You never really asked about her before. Why now?"

Lynnie shrugged. She could have told him everything that was running through her mind in the minutes before his (inevitable) question. But there was a part of her – a part that was much larger than she would have preferred, given she and Darry were supposed to get married in less than two weeks – that was afraid if she gave him all of her worries and doubts, he'd recognize that she wasn't as good of a person as his mother. Even if the _real _Mrs. Curtis hadn't been a saint, maybe Darry would realize that Lynnie wasn't anywhere near good enough at all. She'd been _divorced_. She had a son with someone who _wasn't Darry_. Even though she'd had Jimmy years before she ever knew someone like Darry Curtis even existed, she wondered if people on the block would still think she was some dirty Hester Prynne. She could have sworn she got cross looks from some of the older ladies in the neighborhood – the ones who would have known and loved Darry's parents as much as Darry's friends did. She knew she'd never be the person they missed. But it didn't change anything. It didn't change the fact that when she walked through the door, slept in her room, and kissed the man who'd been named after her husband, she wanted to be that woman. She wanted to be an adequate successor to the name and to the home.

But she couldn't be. It didn't matter how kind and thoughtful you were. You couldn't have a real rivalry with a god. You just couldn't.

"I don't know," Lynnie finally said, and though Darry knew she was being ridiculous, he didn't say anything. He didn't want to push her to a place she wasn't ready to visit.

"Huh," Darry said, not sure what else to say. "Well. If you wanna talk more, ya know I'm here to listen. Forever, as a matter of fact."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. I'm pretty sure that's the way wedding vows work. Of course, I've never had a wedding."

"And I've never had one that stuck, but there's a first time for everything, isn't there?"

"Sure is. And ya wanna know what there might be a first time for tonight?"

"Darry, we might not be married yet, but we're not old-fashioned. We slept together last night, if you remember. You _do _remember, don't you?"

Darry laughed and quickly kissed Lynnie on her mouth. She blushed. She couldn't help it. Every movement Darry Curtis made was romantic. It was like he couldn't control it. Lynnie wasn't complaining. She was just thankful.

"That ain't the thing," Darry said. "I was thinkin' it might be the first time we make liver and onions for the whole family since you and Jimmy moved in."

"Are you trying to kill us all before the wedding?"

"What's the problem with liver and onions?"

"Let's see. Where do I start? Liver? Or onions?"

"Oh, you think you're so clever. I got news for ya, Lynn. It's not clever to repeat what the other person says in a different voice."

"If it wasn't clever, why did I see you laughing?"

"I was laughing because you're nutty."

"Oh, we could have peanut butter sandwiches!"

"Soda doesn't like peanut butter. He says it gets stuck to the roof his mouth."

"We'll serve it with big, tall glasses of milk, then. Milk does a body good, doesn't it?"

"Not if your body is Pony's. Kid stopped taking to milk some time last year. Made a whole joke about how he's allergic to dairy, so I better step out of the room. I'm not unconvinced he didn't give _himself _the intolerance just so he could try to force me out of the room along with the cheese."

Lynnie laughed, and Darry laughed, too. As he laughed, Lynnie snuck a good look at the man she was thrilled to marry. It wasn't just that he was incomparably handsome. He was, but Lynnie had seen plenty of handsome men in her life. She remembered being ten years old and seeing James Dean in _Rebel without a Cause _for the first time and how beautiful she thought he was. From then on, she swore she'd marry a guy like Jim Stark. She thought she got close when Big Jim walked into her life, but he was all wrong. He didn't have the right coolness. He wasn't … well, he wasn't Darry Curtis with his muscles and his swagger. Darry looked like he was coming into the times, but there was a bit of him that would always be greaser. It was the main reason why Lynnie always had to hold back a laugh when Ponyboy claimed that the only thing keeping Darry from being a Soc was his love for his siblings and their friends. He knew Darry better than practically anybody, but he was sure as hell wrong about that. Darry was a greaser, through and through. He might have been more greaser than any of them.

Lynnie loved that about Darry. She loved his authenticity and his freedom to be himself. According to his siblings, he hadn't been that way for a long time. Ever since their parents were killed, Darry had been tougher, colder, and meaner. Ponyboy even said there were times when Darry would remind him of Dally before Dally had been brave enough to admit to loving Lucy (without saying _love_, of course). Lynnie asked him once if he'd ever been freer or more fun before their parents died, or if he'd always been kind of a hard ass. In her darkest and least self-assured moments inside the Curtis house (_her _house now, and she couldn't forget it), she would go back to what Ponyboy said.

"Darry was always a little harder than the rest of us in the house," Ponyboy had said. "Me and Sadie were always real into artsy stuff and reading. Soda's a bawl baby, or at least he used to be. But Darry … Darry could be free and fun. Mom could bring that out in him from time to time. I didn't really see it in him again … well, until you came around, to be honest."

Lynnie didn't tell Ponyboy or anything like that, but it was the best thing he could have said. She knew she'd never be _that _Mrs. Curtis (and for good reason – a son should never marry his mother). She knew she'd never compare to the life she left behind, mythological or otherwise. That wasn't possible. She was a different woman with a different life, different children, and different ways to love. But if there was one thing both Darry's mother and his soon-to-be-wife could do that was good for him, like give him the chance to breathe and have a laugh for a minute or two, Lynnie would take it.

Darry finally caught Lynnie looking at him with that love in her eye.

"What are you staring at?" he asked.

But Lynnie couldn't stop beaming.

"I just can't believe you're a real person," she said.

Darry tried not to blush. He loved Lynnie, but he didn't want to be a schoolboy in front of her. She was such a smart and sophisticated woman. He didn't want her to think she was marrying a dork like him.

"A real person, yeah," Darry finally managed. "And ya know what real people need?"

"Where are you going with this?"

"Food on their plates so they can continue to be people."

Lynnie threw her head back and groaned, and Darry roared with laughter. If this was the way it could be for the rest of their lives, both of them had a sneaking suspicion that nothing could ever be that bad.

They hoped they were right.

* * *

As Darry, Lynnie, and Jimmy left the house to go to the grocery store, Soda was coming home from the DX. He hadn't worked that day, but he decided to spend a few hours hanging out with Steve, anyway. It was about the only time the two of them got to spend together anymore. Soda was busy being married to Jane, and since Jane was Steve's sister, both men still felt a little uncomfortable around each other. Soda worried that every time Steve looked at him, he pictured Jane lying next to him in bed. Darry told him that was crazy talk. What neither of them knew, of course, was that Soda was right. Steve _did _picture Jane and Soda lying next to each other in bed, and as much as he didn't want to, it was like he couldn't stop.

Soda noticed that Steve had a lot less time on his plate, too. It used to be much easier to schedule visits with him, but for the past few months (maybe closer to a year), it was like Steve always had somewhere to be. Every time Soda tried to ask him about it and figure out what in the world was going on, Steve would shut him down. He wasn't in the place where he could admit it anymore, but it hurt Soda to know that Steve appeared to be moving on from their best friendship. When they were much younger boys, they promised each other they would never let anything get in the way of the fact that they were best friends. That was before Soda knew that he would grow up to fall in love with beautiful, sweet Jane and before Steve would do … whatever it was that he was doing. Soda shook his head, trying to let the bad thoughts fall out of his skull. It hurt too much to remember that Steve was keeping secrets.

Was Soda keeping secrets, too?

Of course he was keeping secrets. He hardly spoke about the war with anyone. He didn't even talk about it very often with Two-Bit or Steve, and they had actually _been there_. When he finally got back, and the other guys noticed his limp (It used to be more pronounced, but for Soda, he still looked like a court jester.), they just nodded in some sort of agreement. But what was it an agreement _about_? That war was a bitch? Soda already knew that. He'd known it since before he shipped out, and he would know it long after. Maybe if they just got together and shared their experiences, both in Vietnam and after getting back to Tulsa to a bunch of people who expected them or wanted to be a certain way …

No. He couldn't think that way. When they were greasers, they were allowed to sit around and cry with each other like a bunch of broads. They weren't greasers anymore. They were veterans. Veterans weren't allowed to cry. It was what they told you when they discharged you. At least, that was how Soda chose to remember it.

But Soda still kept secrets. Above all, he kept secrets from Sadie. That never used to be the case. Before he shipped out, Sadie was the only person who could handle all of his secrets. There was stuff he told Sadie that he could never tell Jane, like how he used to have dreams about dying and meeting their mother in heaven. Sadie never thought it was odd before – nothing to worry about, just grief stuff. Maybe it had been back then. But now … now that he was sure he'd died, gone to heaven, and communed with his mother _for real _after getting shot in Vietnam, he was sure Sadie would think he'd lost his mind. A few years earlier, there was every chance Sadie might have taken her brother seriously. But she just wasn't that old Sadie anymore. Soda thought back to a time when she'd watched her hold Michael over her shoulder after she had fed him, and when the baby spit up on her shoulder, Sadie wasn't even fazed. Soda was shocked – not by Michael's spit-up, of course, but by Sadie's aloofness about the whole thing. Years earlier, Sadie would have grimaced at the thought of a baby's vomit, even if the baby was Elenore, whom she loved. This Sadie was different. This Sadie was a mother. She didn't have time to indulge Soda's supernatural anxieties like she did when they were both just kids. And that was the thing of it. Where everyone else in the gang was starting to have their own kids or think about having their own kids, Soda felt like he still _was _a kid. To make matters worse, he felt like he was the only one. Even Ponyboy seemed to have grown beyond.

What was wrong with him? Why did he have to be the one who was broken and stunted? He knew there was something wrong with him. Before the war, he wouldn't have rejected Jane's advances in bed. He wouldn't have stayed away from Sadie for fear that he'd frighten her or Johnny or his little baby nephew. Now, it seemed like that was all he ever did. And he hated it. He blamed his limp. That stupid, stupid limp. He'd have it forever, the doctors said. It would start to get easier and look less pronounced, but he'd have it forever. That made Soda want to die all over again. He was (mostly) happy to have survived the attack so he could go home to Jane and everybody. But it wasn't the same. Limping everywhere made him feel like he'd never learn how to be a man. Where everyone else was growing up, getting married, holding down real jobs, and learning what it meant to be strong like his father had been before he died, Soda was stuck with a stupid limp. That limp made him feel like a baby, learning how to walk again. Only when he was a baby, he stopped toddling around after awhile. Not this time. This time, he was doomed to walk a life of instability and impotence.

He was disturbed by how negative he felt now. Before Vietnam, he was always the guy who could make you feel better with a raise of his eyebrows or a single encouraging word. Now, he was hard pressed to pipe up at the dinner table, even if it was just him and Jane. He couldn't speak. He couldn't speak without feeling the need – the compulsion – to relate the conversation back to something he'd done in the war or the day he got shot and nearly died. And he wasn't stupid. He might have been a high school dropout, but Sodapop Curtis had never been stupid. He knew that even his most trusted and loving friends and family members didn't want him to sit there and talk about Vietnam. They didn't want Soda the soldier. They wanted their brother. They wanted their boyfriend (_husband_. He really needed to stop forgetting that, especially since he was so close to his first wedding anniversary with Jane.) back. But they were never going to get him. He was gone. He'd been gone since the day he shipped out – maybe even the day he got his draft card in the mail.

The irony of the draft card coming on the same day that Sadie got married wasn't lost on him. In fact, he thought about it everyday. He even laughed about it sometimes – a dark laugh but a laugh nevertheless. It was the only way it could have happened.

Soda didn't want to be gone. He wasn't sure he wanted to go back to the way he was before, either. He vaguely remembered the kid who paid little to no attention to the war before he had friends in it, and even then, he remembered that he liked to pretend it wasn't really happening. He wasn't sure he wanted to go back to being that kid. In a way (many ways, really), he knew it was better to have some idea of what was going on in the world and why it mattered that John Lennon and that new band of his were singing "Give Peace a Chance." He got it now. He could speak to the experience … from experience. Now, Lucy and Carrie Shepard and all the other kids in college didn't have to guess about what they were protesting against. With Soda back at home, they could finally know. They could finally touch it. But Soda never let them. He remembered a letter from Two-Bit shortly after he returned home. Two-Bit had written something about always wanting to be a sideshow attraction when he was a kid, but now that he was a Vietnam vet, he really _was _one. And it was the most horrible experience of his life, even more than bombs going off right near his ears or watching his friends fall down and die when, the night before, they'd been having a laugh at Two-Bit's expert Will Rogers impression. Soda didn't really understand what that meant before he got home. No one asked him questions or begged to see the scar on his leg, but he always felt like they were going to. He always felt like they were gawking at him. His life had become a circus, and he was the ringmaster, the trapeze artist, and the only guy in the audience.

But he didn't want to be a freak show. He didn't want to be the happy-go-lucky kid at the DX, either. He just wanted someone to look at him and think, "That's Soda." He didn't want them to think of him as different or fragile or jaded. He just wanted them to look into his eyes and know him. It couldn't have been very hard. They'd known him all this time. Why couldn't they find him in between the scars and the limp? If anyone could have found him between the scars and the limp, he would have thought it would be Sadie, his very own mirror, the person who loved him fastest out of anyone he'd ever known, including their folks (he bet, anyway). But Sadie always seem so frightened when she looked at him. Soda supposed he shouldn't have been surprised. Jane said she never felt the same way around Steve after he got home, either. Soda just always expected more from himself and Sadie.

He sat down on the couch (his spot – the one he'd claimed when he was just a little boy) and went to flip on the television. But just like on cue, there was a knock at the door. Annoyed, he got up to answer it, and his heart dropped down into his stomach when he saw who it was on the porch.

"Sadie?" he asked.

Sadie wrinkled her nose a bit. She'd been hoping he would call her Sadie Lou. It had been so long since she'd heard it.

"Hi," she said. "I don't have my key. I forgot it on the kitchen table at home or something. Can I come in?"

"You don't have to ask," Soda said, stepping aside to let his sister through the door. "Just 'cause you don't live here all the time no more don't mean it ain't still your home."

Sadie smiled. It was a bit cheesy, but that was Soda for you.

"Thanks," she said. "Is anybody else home?"

"Naw. Just me. Darry and Lynnie took Jimmy shopping to get something for dinner, Pony's at school, and Jane's workin' until later tonight. Seems like you forgot somethin' other than just your key."

Sadie looked around frantically and then remembered what Soda must have been thinking.

"Oh!" she said. "You mean Michael. My son. Whom I love."

"I sure hope so."

"Aww, c'mon, man. Don't be that way. Michael's at home with Johnny. He came home early today."

"No trouble down at the site, I'm hopin'?"

"Oh, no, none at all. You know how well he gets on with the family he works for. He finished up his job early today, and they told him he could just head on back home to see Michael before he has to go down for his nap. Real sweet."

"And when Johnny came home, you thought you might …"

"Take a walk 'round the neighborhood and see where it led me. Guess I shouldn't have been surprised it led me here. Shoulda brought my key along."

Soda shrugged. He knew why Sadie had forgotten her key at home. She didn't want to feel like she still needed to come home. She wanted to feel like her place with Johnny and Michael was the only home she needed now. Soda knew that. Though he and Sadie shared the most characteristics between one another, Sadie's stubbornness was a lot like Ponyboy's.

"Well, you're here now," Soda said. "And I … I'm glad."

Sadie looked at her brother and beamed. She wasn't sure what she wanted to do. There was a part of her that always wanted to reach out and hug him, but she wasn't sure he wanted that anymore. Maybe she could have just asked. It just didn't seem that easy.

"Me too," Sadie said. "So, uh, Jane gets home from work in a couple of hours. She still plannin' on meeting me and Lucy at my place?"

"Are you kiddin'? It's all she's been talkin' about since the three-a you agreed to it on Lucy's graduation day. Darry's gonna be pissed when he finds out Jane won't be home for dinner, though. Heard him arguin' with Lynnie about not makin' frozen foods for dinner tonight 'cause Jane don't like 'em. Coulda saved 'em a whole trip to the grocery."

"Ah, I'm sure they won't mind," Sadie said. "Speakin' of Lynnie … whadda you think?"

"About what?"

"About Lynnie."

"I think she's real cool. Real sweet. Loves the hell outta Darry. Don't you like her, too?"

Sadie shrugged. She and Soda fell into their typical positions on the couch – the ones they'd had since they were just little kids. It felt like no time had passed … until they realized it felt like no time had passed. Then, with a jolt, both Sadie and Soda realized just how long it had been since things felt the same. The air between them seemed to freeze.

"I dunno," Sadie said. "I mean, I do. How could I not? She's all the things you said she is, and she's related to Lucy."

"But that's the problem, ain't it?" Soda asked, though he was sure he knew the answer. "She's related to Lucy."

"Why would that be the problem?"

"Aww, c'mon, Sadie Lou. Don't lie to yourself."

And maybe it was hearing Soda call her _Sadie Lou _for the first time in what might have been a couple of years, but it was enough. Even just a for a moment, Sadie could talk to Soda again, just like she used to.

"You're right," she said. "It's a little bit about that. Lucy's leavin' so fast. I know I'll talk to her all the time, and I'll see her whenever I can. You don't just give up a best friend like that."

"Sure don't. I'd know. If Steve didn't drop my ass after I punched him square in the jaw for stealin' the last chocolate chip cookie in the lunchroom when I was ten years old, Lucy sure ain't gonna forget about you now."

"You punched Steve square in the jaw that day? He told everybody around the school that he got into a fight with Bob Sheldon."

"I remember that. I also remember bein' shocked people _believed _him. Steve coulda taken Bob Sheldon out any day of the week. Kid's rich, but he's a bit of a sissy."

"Soda. What did Mom and Dad always say about you callin' other guys _sissy_?"

"That it was rude to my own sissy."

"That's right."

Sadie smiled at Soda, unsure of whether or not she could hug him. She wanted to. Heaven and earth knew she wanted to. Every time she got around him, it was all she could ever think about. But she wouldn't. She wouldn't until he told her he was ready. She knew how hard it was for Two-Bit to start hugging his mother and Katie after he got back. For someone as sensitive as Soda, it could be twice as long. Sadie respected that. She'd always respected her twin in a way no one else ever really could. They didn't know what it was like to see inside his head like she did.

"So, what's the deal, then?" Soda asked. "You're afraid if ya start likin' Lynnie and lettin' her into the family the way we did Lucy, somebody's gonna feel jealous or left out?"

"Well, yeah," Sadie said. "I know that probably sounds childish."

"I ain't above childish things," Soda said. "Why do ya think I like playin' games with Elenore? Little kids play the best things. Who else is gonna ask you to crawl around and pretend to be a puppy?"

"Everything you're saying is so weird."

"I ain't gonna apologize, if that's what you're lookin' for."

"Never."

Soda smiled at Sadie, but it was sad. He hadn't realized how much he missed her until she was sitting right next to him. It had been too long since they sat together like this, and it scared the shit out of him. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to do next.

"Nobody's gonna forget about you, and nobody's gonna forget about Lucy," Soda said. "Just 'cause Lucy and Lynnie share the same blood don't mean Lynnie's gonna take over for her cousin."

Sadie nodded.

"I don't know what I'm so afraid of," she said.

"Well, I do," Soda said. "You're afraid of things changin'. So am I. You shoulda seen me out with Jane last night."

"Wait, what happened with you and Jane?"

As soon as Soda began to answer Sadie's question, there was another knock on the front door. Soda shrugged, and Sadie waved him up from his seat.

"Answer it," she said. "Could be important."

Soda nodded and went for the door. He grinned when he saw who was on the porch. It was Elenore, holding Dally's hand.

"Hey, Elenore!" he said.

"Hi, Soda," Elenore said with a tiny wave. "Dad's got somethin' for you."

"Don't spoil the surprise," Dally said. "Ain't that what your mom said?"

"Sorry, Dad."

Dally picked Elenore up and placed her on his hip. He looked Soda in the eye, and Soda looked away.

"Can we come in?" Dally asked. "She wasn't lyin', man. I do got something for you."

"Sure thing," Soda said. "Come on in."

Dally and Elenore walked through the door, and soon as Elenore saw Sadie on the couch, she lit up like the fireflies Soda had taught her how to catch the summer before.

"Sadie!" she shouted happily. "Dad, lemme down. I want to see Sadie."

"Don't bug her too much, kid," Dally said as he let Elenore down.

"Aww, Dally, don't be stupid," Sadie said. "This kid could never bother me. I have a few minutes before I have to go back to Michael and Johnny. What do you want to play, Elenore?"

"Can we go into Pony's room and read books?" Elenore asked.

"You never did tire of classic literature, did you, baby?"

"Come on, Sadie!"

Elenore grabbed Sadie's hands and practically dragged her to the back of the small house. On their way back to Ponyboy's room, Soda looked after them, a little hurt.

"Don't ya wanna play barnyard or somethin', Elenore?" he asked.

"Not today, Soda," Elenore said. "I want Sadie to read to me!"

"You can play barnyard with Soda later," Sadie said. "What do you want to read?"

As they walked toward Ponyboy's room, Dally and Soda heard Elenore's reply to Sadie.

"Can we go back to that story about the Russian lady who falls in love with that guy she's not married to?"

"_Anna Karenina_?"

"I think so."

"Who in the _world _read you _Anna Karenina_?"

"Pony did."

"Looks like I'm gonna have to have a talk with him."

Their voices faded into the background, and Soda slowly turned to face Dally. It was the most nervous he'd been to confront Dally since they were in their early teens, and there was still a chance that Dally would beat the tar out of him for something. But Dally didn't look angry. He just looked like Dally, and over the years, that look had changed. It hadn't softened, exactly, but it had changed. That was unmistakable.

"You said you had somethin' for me?" Soda asked.

"Yeah," Dally said. "It's the book under my arm."

He took the book out and handed it to Soda. Soda looked at it, confused.

"Is this somethin' Lucy wanted me to have?" he asked.

"Naw, man," Dally said. He'd read enough of it as he waited for Elenore to get herself dressed earlier that day to know exactly what Lucy meant before. "It's from me."

"Who's Wilfred Owen, anyway?"

"He's a poet. Wrote stuff about World War I, just like that book of poems Lucy gave ya when you … well, you know why she gave it to you."

Soda nodded. He opened up the book to see that one of the corners was folded down. He looked back up at Dally, somewhat puzzled.

"Did you bend the page at the top, or was that there before?" he asked.

"Naw, that was me," Dally said. "You'll see what I mean."

Soda nodded again. He looked at Dally, and the words he'd spoken two years earlier, before he shipped out, came flooding back. Judging by the expression on Dally's face, he hadn't forgotten those words, either.

"Ya know, there's somethin' we should probably talk about," Soda said.

"Ya mean that time before ya shipped out, and ya told me that sometimes, ya hate me?" Dally asked. "I remember that one real good. Think about it everyday."

"Aww, c'mon, Dally," Soda pleaded, but Dally didn't let him finish.

"Ya know, it ain't everyday a guy ya think is a real buddy says shit like that to ya," Dally said. "You told me I was the one who deserved to go over there and get my brains blown out 'cause I'd been such shit 'fore I went and married your sister's best friend. You hadn't been shit. You shoulda stayed home, right?"

"Dally, I was upset. You know what it's like to get that card in the mail. I know ya didn't have to go 'cause of Elenore, but I know you know what it feels like to hold that card in your hands and not know what's gonna happen next. And I was mad at you. I was mad at you 'cause you got an out, and I didn't. But that wasn't your fault. It wasn't nobody's fault. Just happened."

Dally nodded curtly, and Soda knew he wasn't off the hook.

"I know that, man," Dally said. "Don't change the fact that I never stopped fuckin' thinkin' about it. Ya know, I never thought you'd be the one to tell me off like that."

"That ain't true," Soda said. "I'm the one who came to your door and gave ya shit when you missed Lucy's graduation from high school right after y'all got married."

"Yeah, but that was different. I deserved that. I didn't deserve what you said, and you know it. Never thought I'd hear it from you. Steve, maybe. Two-Bit, if he was drunk enough, which is usually is. Darry and Pony wouldn't have said that. They don't think about me. And Johnny's still too scared-a me to say boo. But you, man. You're supposed to be …"

Dally cut himself off. Another word, and he would have dug himself into too deep a hole.

"Yeah, well, whatever, man," he said. "You get it. Hope ya like that book."

And before Soda could make any reply, Dally walked right past him and into Pony's room to check on Elenore. Soda was alone, just like he always was.

* * *

"This is real nice," Jane said after taking a long sip from her glass of water. "I don't remember the last time the three of us got together like this."

"I think it was about five years ago," Lucy said. "Remember, when I was figuring out how I felt about Dally?"

"That was a hell of a time," Sadie said. "Can we maybe never go back to that, please?"

She turned her head from where she sat in the tiny dining room to where Johnny sat on the living room couch, rocking Michael to sleep. Without even recognizing it, she broke out into a smile.

"It's better now," Sadie said and turned back around to face her friends.

"Speak for yourself," Jane said.

"What are you complaining about, Jane?" Lucy asked, only somewhat sarcastically. "You're exactly where you wanted to be in 1965. You're married to Soda, you've got a job, and you look more beautiful than ever."

"You're sweet," Jane said. "But it ain't that perfect, and I think you know it. I'm married to Soda, but we live in his childhood home with his brothers and _your _cousins. I mean, who would have thought?"

"It won't be like that forever," Sadie said. "You and Soda will get your own place."

"What if _we _want the old Curtis house? Ever think of that?"

"Honey, you can stop barking up that tree right now. Darry's never gonna give up that house. You'd have to pry it from his cold, dead hands."

Sadie sharply pointed her index finger at Jane, who looked like she was hatching an idea.

"And this is not an invitation to make dinner for and poison my big brother," Sadie said. "If you did, you'd have a lot of Sadie on your hands."

"And I'd be real jealous," Johnny piped up from the couch. Sadie turned an awkward shade of red before she turned an even more awkward shade of white.

"Don't you have a baby to get to sleep?" she asked through her gritted teeth.

"Sorry, hon," Johnny said. "I might not be as tall as Dally or as bold as Two-Bit, but I'm still a man, just like the rest of 'em."

"Well, be a man in Michael's room. The kind of man who rocks his baby to sleep."

Johnny smiled as he stood up from the couch and walked over to Sadie. He gave her an affectionate kiss on the top of her head.

"Don't stay up too late," Johnny said. "I know how ya get in the mornin' if you do."

"How does she look, Johnny?" Jane asked.

"Like she's a whole lotta Sadie on my hands."

Irritated, Sadie gestured to the back of the house, and a chuckling Johnny left toward Michael's room, baby in his arms. Sadie turned back to Jane and Lucy, who were giggling like no time had passed since 1965.

"You gotta be kiddin' me," Sadie said. "Have we changed at all in the past five years?"

"Well, Johnny sure has," Lucy said. "Can't imagine him making comments like that when he was bold enough to ask _me _out."

"Yeah, what was up with that, anyway?" Jane asked. "I mean, I always knew he liked Sadie. Why would he ever try it on with you?"

Lucy narrowed her eyes at Jane.

"Why? Because I'm so grotesque?"

"No. Because you're so … Lucy."

"That's not an adjective."

"It is for the people who know you."

Lucy rolled her eyes, and now, it was Sadie's turn to laugh.

"I'm serious," she said. "Have we changed? Or are we the same kids we were when nothing made sense?"

"What do you mean, nothing made sense?" Lucy asked.

"Well, let's see," Sadie said. "In 1965, before you and Dally came to your senses and knocked boots upstairs at Buck Merril's place …"

"Still can't believe that's where you lost it, by the way," Jane added.

"Thanks, me neither."

"Before then," Sadie continued, "Johnny had a thing for you, you had a thing for Two-Bit, and I was … well, I don't really know what I was."

"In denial and searching for economic stability?" Jane asked.

"How did you pull the phrase _economic stability _out of your ass?" Lucy asked, surprised.

"That's easy. Eight years of hangin' around _you_."

Lucy shrugged. That made enough sense to her. Jane was like Soda in that way. She'd never been too great in school, but she'd never been stupid. She always knew what Lucy was saying. She always wondered if Lucy really knew that. With her moving to New York in almost no time, maybe Jane would never know. She shook her head. It was even too hard for her to think about – losing the girl she fought to protect in the school parking lot before she was even old enough to enter the school itself.

"I think we're different where it counts," Lucy said. "I think more about other people and their feelings, for instance."

"More, but not much more," Jane said.

"Oh, shut up, Jane," Lucy said.

"I'll do what I want to do when I want to do it."

Lucy rolled her eyes, more playful than not.

"Sadie, you're different, too," Lucy said. "You worried you'd never really be in love, but from where I see it, I think you are."

Sadie nodded. It wasn't exactly what she wanted to hear. She thought about Lucy going off to New York for her intellectual adventure, and though Sadie knew that was never really in the cards for her, it didn't mean she wasn't jealous. She was bright, too. She liked to read and write, too. Where was her full scholarship and a teaching assistantship to a top-rated graduate program in English literature? She knew where it was. It was in the garbage along with Darry's dreams of playing college football and Pony's dreams of becoming a famous artist. Things like that just didn't happen to Curtis kids. They couldn't.

Off Lucy's look, Sadie could tell that the same things were on her mind. She just didn't say anything about it – maybe out of guilt, maybe out of politeness, and maybe out of both.

"What about me?" Jane asked. "How have I changed since we were kids?"

"You're more annoying," Lucy said.

"That's not fair!" Jane said.

"You're right. Let's see. Jane, you're more patient than you were when we were kids. You don't throw a punch any time you get mad, and you don't start fights."

"It really puts a lot of stress on your back that you don't need," Jane said.

"See, you've changed," Sadie said. "Five years ago, Jane Randle wouldn't have said a thing like that. She would have just punched Lucy right in her face."

"I would have punched back!" Lucy said.

"No, you would have read a Russian novel until the urge passed," Sadie said. "Speaking of, did you know your three-year-old daughter likes to listen to people read Tolstoy?"

Lucy grinned from ear to ear.

"That's the Elenore I was hoping for," she said.

"I don't steal so much no more, either," Jane thought aloud. "I'm not as fast as I used to be. I'd get caught! And I don't wanna get thrown in jail now that I'm married and want little kids of my own."

Sadie's brows went up. Was that what Soda had been alluding to before Dally knocked on the door? She thought she could ask Soda later and then thought not to. She didn't want to push the good luck she'd had with him earlier that day.

"So, we've changed," Sadie said. "That's fair to say."

"Sure is," Lucy agreed. "And if we think _we've _changed, let's just get a look at Dally. He's down at the grocery store right now, and his boss let him bring Elenore in since she's old enough to behave herself now."

"That's something I never thought anyone would ever say," Jane said. "Well, you know, unless you'd never moved to Tulsa, and Elenore was the name of the broad he was screwing, and I am running my mouth to places it doesn't belong, aren't I?"

Lucy narrowed her eyes at Jane.

"Little bit," she said.

"Things are changing all the time," Sadie said. "Such as where we're all going to live by the end of the summer."

"Aww, Lucy!" Jane said. "I almost forgot you and Dally are movin'!"

"We're taking the baby with us, you know," Lucy said. "We're not just going to leave her here with you all."

"I know, but Soda and I are in denial about it. Any chance you and Dally have decided it's better for her to be raised by her grandparents in the place where she was born?"

"Jane."

"What about her godfather and his loving wife?"

"Jane!"

"OK, now I'll shut up."

Sadie looked over at Lucy and smiled at her with that look of hope in her eyes. Where it had been a very optimistic and hopeful day for Sadie, it had been a day of dread for Lucy. She had to tell Sadie the truth. She had to do it sooner than the next day because the more often Sadie talked about the impending move, the more nerve Lucy lost.

"Well, I'm just glad we've got until the start of August until we lose you all," Sadie said. "Isn't that right, Lucy?"

And when Sadie looked at her with those brown eyes – eyes that reminded her of how welcome and loved she felt when she first moved to Tulsa nearly eight years earlier – Lucy couldn't do it. She couldn't tell her they were moving on the day after the wedding.

Sadie would just have to wait. They had tonight, and Lucy wasn't going to ruin that.

* * *

**Phew! We're finally to the end. If, for whatever reason, you were actually waiting for an update on this story, I'm sorry it took well over a month for me to post it. This chapter is overly long, but that tends to be what happens when I stray from the main narrative for a long time. I miss it, and I overcompensate with nearly 13k words.**

**Hinton owns **_**The Outsiders**_**. I own this new ice blue sweater that I really like. Happy New Year, everybody! I can't wait to celebrate my one-year anniversary on this board come March. **


	6. Chapter 6

**Quick content warning for period-relevant confusion about queerness, which may read as homophobic. Please remember it's my characters' ignorance, and my characters exist in Oklahoma, 1970. I try to represent that as accurately as possible.**

* * *

Lucy thought she was alone. About half an hour earlier, she'd sent Dally and Elenore down to Crutchfield Park to go for a walk. Elenore was crying at the sight of all the boxes in the place that was soon not to be her home, and Lucy thought it would be a good idea for Dally to get her out of the apartment so that she could take her mind off things. _Things_? It was trauma. It was trauma, and Lucy knew it. She just didn't want to admit it because she didn't want to be a terrible mother. Not admitting she was a terrible mother probably _also _made her a terrible mother, but that was too much to think about. She needed room to breathe on her own, too. So, when she sent her husband and daughter out on their walk, she grabbed her records and her turntable (two things she wouldn't pack up until the last possible second – about a week and a half from that very moment, which made her sick to think about, so she didn't) and put the music on.

It took her quite some time to make her choice considering the mammoth size of her record collection, but in the end, it was obvious. She had to listen to music that Dally would have embarrassed her for if he were at home, watching. So, she grabbed her 45 of Roger Miller's "King of the Road" and got to work – singing and dancing.

"_Trailers for sale or rent / rooms to let fifty cents / no phone, no pool, no pets / I ain't got no cigarettes_…"

She carried herself around the room to the song for a few seconds more before she heard something else in the doorway.

"So's this an unfortunate side effect of losin' your virginity upstairs at Buck's house?"

Lucy jumped and whirled around to face Dally and Elenore coming through the front door of their apartment. Quickly, Lucy rushed to turn off the record. She knew Dally couldn't stand a country song after living above Buck Merril's parties for as long as he did. She wouldn't have kept it on if she knew he and Elenore would be back home so fast.

"Hi, Mommy," Elenore said. "What's _virginity_?"

"That's a great question, and one we can talk about tomorrow when we have more time," Lucy said. "Why don't you go in the other room and put on your song?"

"You're making me listen to my song a lot," Elenore said but walked off to her room, anyway.

"Yeah, but you like it, don't you?"

"I do."

"OK. Mommy and Daddy will be in your room to bring you back out when we're ready for you. Love you!"

"I love you, too, Mommy."

Elenore closed her door, and a few seconds later, they heard the song.

"_You got a thing about you / I just can't live without you / I really want you, Elenore, near me_ …"

As soon as they were sure that Elenore was off in her own little world of music and imagination (something she must have inherited from her grandfather, Jack Bennet), Dally furrowed his brow at Lucy from across the room.

"You're really gonna tell our three-year-old daughter what virginity is? Tomorrow?" he asked.

"An abridged explanation, but yes. Of course. Why are you so surprised?"

"I dunno. Seems a little early if ya ask me. I didn't find out about shit like that till I was six or seven, and I learned it the old-fashioned way."

"From a kid with older siblings who were doing things they probably weren't ready for?"

"That's one way of puttin' it. But can we maybe change the fuckin' subject, man? I didn't come up here to talk to you about how we're gonna teach our kid about sex, and it's makin' me uneasy."

"Sorry," Lucy said. "But you're the one who asked."

"I wasn't expectin' a dissertation."

"Just wait a few years. I'll give you one."

Dally almost smiled. He wondered if Lucy knew just how proud of her that he really was. Of course, he didn't make a big deal about it. That would go to her head, and it would make him seem like some kind of … well, some kind of Soda, if he were honest with himself (and he hardly ever was, but in that moment, in his head, it seemed like the right thing to be). But when he looked at Lucy, whether she was reading, dancing to a song he didn't like, or brushing her teeth above the bathroom sink, he couldn't believe she was really there. He couldn't believe someone as clever and tuff as she was would want to spend the rest of her days with _him_. She said she thought he was every bit as smart as she was, and though he appreciated the compliment, he knew it was bullshit. It had to be. As far as he could see, there was no one like his Bennet. Maybe New York would change things for her, but it wouldn't change anything for him. When he looked at her, he'd always see the smartest girl he'd ever known – cursing him out on the front lawn of the high school, confronting him on her high horse in the courtyard during lunch, and reading in the dark at the Dingo to keep herself from getting into a brawl she'd later regret. He almost smiled again. Was there anyone cooler than his wife?

_His wife_. He supposed he had Soda to thank for that, in some way or another. But he didn't want to think about Soda. It made him too angry.

"Why did we send Elenore to her room?" Dally asked. "Was that your plan all along?"

"Actually, my plan all along was to dance to records you hate while you played outside with your daughter, but that was very quickly foiled," Lucy said. "What's the deal, anyway? You weren't even gone for an hour."

"We would've been gone for that. Longer, maybe, even. But in case _you _didn't notice, it's pouring rain all of a sudden. Can't really play with a kid in Crutchfield Park when it's pouring rain."

"When Lynnie and I were littler, she used to want to play this game. She called it 'Stranded.' We would stand in my aunt and uncle's driveway when it was drizzling rain, and we'd pretend like we were stranded until an imaginary version of whoever Lynnie's crush was at the time would come and save us. Lynnie wasn't a very feminist child."

"Don't surprise me none. What with all the pink. That ain't the point. You don't seem right."

Lucy shrugged. Part of her wanted to talk to Dally about it. Another part of her knew that he wouldn't be very helpful. It wasn't that he didn't want to be. It was that sometimes, he still didn't quite know how to be. There were also her own issues. Did she trust him? Did she trust anyone? In that moment, she decided not to worry anymore. Worrying about what Dally thought or what Dally needed had screwed them over before. Lucy wasn't about to let it happen again, so instead, she let it go.

"I still don't know what I'm doing," she said. She breathed hard, hoping to catch some of the tears she felt in her throat. It was still too much to cry in front of Dally.

Dally frowned in confusion.

"What're you talkin' about?" he asked. His voice was surprisingly earnest. "You're movin' out to Manhattan to be a big-time scholar of books. Everybody knows that."

"Yeah, maybe that's _literally _what I'm off to go do. Maybe I'm _literally _your wife and Elenore's mom. But that's not … I just don't know what I'm supposed to do in the meantime."

"I don't know if I'm gettin' it."

Lucy sighed. She couldn't quite look Dally in the eye. It was too embarrassing. She didn't want him to know that when he wasn't around, she tended to fall to pieces.

"It's like I'm living in between two worlds," Lucy said. "Part of me is so ready to move on – to be part of something that's so different from so much of the things I was part of here."

"That ain't your way of leavin' me, is it?"

"Of course not. I mean … I'm ready to put being a teenager behind me. I'm ready to move on. Have a job. Take care of you and Elenore."

"But then what?"

Lucy paused. There was only one thing she could think about then. She briefly closed her eyes and saw thirteen-year-old Sadie in her English class, reading _The Catcher in the Rye _… Sadie when they had their first fight about marriage and money and privilege … Sadie on the morning of her wedding … Sadie in the hospital, holding little baby Michael for the first time. Sadie was her connection to everything. Without Sadie, there was no love … no community. Without Sadie, she would have been locked away in her bedroom at her parents' house to that very day. It wasn't that Sadie was holding her back. She'd never done that. Sadie had always pushed her to be the best version of herself that she could be. Sadie wasn't a weakness. Sadie was the strength it was damn near impossible to leave.

"What if I never have a friend again?" Lucy asked. "What if this is it? What if the only time I get to see friends that I love is when I come to visit them here?"

Dally shrugged.

"Well, then you'll be luckier than most folks," he said.

"What?"

"C'mon. Most folks ain't got one fuckin' friend anywhere on the globe. Ya think I'd have friends if Soda hadn't been so fuckin' forceful about it?"

Lucy smirked. If it sounded like Sadie, it sounded like Soda.

"Why don't I hear about that more often?" Lucy asked.

"'Cause it makes me look like a fuckin' brat," Dally said. "And it ain't the point. You got friends. They might not be comin' with us across the country, but you got friends. A whole shit ton of 'em, if ya ask me or anybody else with fuckin' common sense. Look around, Bennet. You're lucky. Ya think Tim Shepard's got friends?"

"Tim Shepard is in prison."

"Might not be if he had better friends."

Lucy sighed. In a way (maybe more ways than one), she knew Dally was right. She was being weak. Most people were lucky to get a single friend in their lives. Lucy had more than she knew what to do with, and they were all there for her. That was what that tiny Tulsa neighborhood was good for – teaching her that family could get as big as you wanted it to get if you were open enough. Tulsa taught her that people _could _love her for everything she was – for all of her arrogance and aggression. The question wasn't how she was supposed to leave it behind. She knew she had to. Her life wasn't there anymore. No, the question now was why she ever thought she could recreate it.

"People in New York might hate your guts, man," Dally said. "I know that better than anybody. Made a lot of enemies in my time there."

"You were eleven years old," Lucy said.

"And you didn't make fuckin' enemies when _you _were eleven?"

Lucy looked down at the floor. Of course she'd made enemies that young. She was the jerk in the middle of the classroom who corrected people's pronunciations because it was the little bit of insecure power she thought she possessed. You didn't correct people's grammar without making a few enemies. She wondered how the people in Tulsa had stuck around her for so long. Then again, they were a different class of people – the kind of people who saw Lucy as a whole person, not just a middle-class-looking girl with a lot of books in her hands. She knew she was unlikely to meet anyone like her friends in Tulsa ever again. It was sad for her. She wondered if she could embody that spirit on the East Coast. She wondered if anyone would care.

"Look, man, it doesn't fuckin' matter what other people think of ya," Dally said. "People here think you're pretty fuckin' great. And they ain't wrong."

Somewhere inside of herself, Lucy knew that was true. And yet, there was another part of her that dreaded exactly how different everything would be once they got to New York and once she started her classes at NYU. She might have belonged there intellectually. But socially? She was certain her colleagues would have no idea what a rumble was. They probably wouldn't have even known the song by Link Wray. They'd think she was uncivilized – _less than_.

"I know," Lucy said, though she was only somewhat convinced.

"I'm not sayin' it ain't gonna be hard to walk into your classes and see people ya don't recognize who probably think their shit don't fuckin' stink. It's gonna be. If I were you, I'd punch 'em out. And hey, you been known to do that from time to time."

_That's what I'm afraid of_, Lucy thought. But she wouldn't say it. It was too hard for her to admit. She'd spent her entire adolescence wishing she could regain the sophistication to join the East Coast intellectuals again – where she always felt she was meant to be. But every nostalgic tug she felt for Tulsa made her question herself. It made her question who she was supposed to be. She thought of Lynnie and drew in a breath.

"We're gonna be alright," Dally said. "You trust me?"

"Isn't that what you usually say before you punch somebody's lights out?" Lucy asked.

"Maybe, 'f you were a guy who pissed me off. But you ain't. So you're safe."

_I love you, too_, Lucy thought. But she wouldn't say it. She didn't need to tell Dally that she loved him for him to know.

There was a knock at the door, and Lucy furrowed her brow.

"I'm not expecting anyone," she said.

"No, but I am," Dally said and made his way toward the door. "You ain't the only adult who lives in this place, Bennet, ya know."

Dally opened the door, and in walked Violet. As soon as Lucy saw her, she understood. A few nights earlier, Dally mentioned that there was something a little off about Violet, but he couldn't quite figure out what it was. He knew she'd never share it with him because of their complicated sibling relationship and history. But maybe Lucy could pry something out of her. Lucy agreed to talk to Violet on the condition that Dally wouldn't force her to tell him a thing unless she was in real danger. She might have been an only child, but she knew what it was like to be a sister.

"Hey, V," Dally said. "Good to see ya."

Violet snorted.

"Since when?"

"I don't know. I just said it."

Lucy walked toward Violet and closed the door behind her.

"Well, I think it's always good to see you, Violet," Lucy said. "How're you doing?"

"Eh. I've been better. But it's good to see ya, Lucy, 'specially since you're leavin' in a week and a half. I don't know when I'll see ya next after that."

Lucy almost smiled. Besides her parents, Violet had been the only person they told about the real date of the move. She was family, and you didn't lie to family.

So, why hadn't Lucy told Sadie?

Dally pointed toward Elenore's bedroom door to excuse himself.

"I'm gonna go check on the kid," Dally said. "That stupid 'Chicken Little Was Right' song is playin' now, and I can't fuckin' stand it."

Violet waved her brother away, and he ducked into the room and closed the door. Lucy stepped closer to Violet, and instinctively, Violet backed up.

"So," Lucy said.

"So what?"

"A needle pulling thread."

"Huh?"

"Ah. I forgot. You wouldn't be too big on musicals. Or sewing."

"Fuck no. You got somethin' to drink? I'm thirsty, and they tell ya you're not supposed to drink rain water 'cause-a the acid."

Lucy scrunched up her nose.

"You've tried to drink rain water before?" she asked.

"Well, when your old lady dies before she's even a little bit old, and your old man would rather lose at poker than pay the water bill, you'll try anything."

She took a seat on the couch and picked up the book next to her. It was _Crime and Punishment_. As Lucy came back to the couch with a bottle of Coke for Violet, she smiled a little.

"Huh," she said. "_Crime and Punishment_. Thought I packed away all the Russian novels."

"Maybe Elenore got into 'em," Violet said.

"Why would my three-year-old … actually, that's not off the wall, given her tastes. She could've."

Violet thumbed through the pages. Her look was absent, but even Lucy could tell. She felt very present somewhere, even if it wasn't the apartment.

"This is the book I used to hide my face after Jane beat me up outside the baby store," she said. Her voice was airier than it had ever been.

Lucy nodded.

"I remember."

"And you weren't gonna say nothin'?"

"I thought you wouldn't want to bring it up."

Violet exhaled. Lucy was right. She didn't want to think about that fight she'd had with Jane, and yet, she thought about it all the time – especially over the past few days. She didn't quite understand why. It wasn't that she'd forgotten that she and Jane used to be the best of friends until they couldn't be anymore. Everyday, she tried to forget it, and everyday, she couldn't. Maybe that was why she'd turned to Steve. It was the closest she'd ever get to loving Jane again – to Jane loving her. Maybe the fight with Jane was on her mind because the anniversary of it had recently passed. But it wasn't that recent. What could it have been?

Violet closed her eyes. She knew what it was. The Bennet-Winstons were ten days away from packing up and moving to New York. Dally was leaving Tulsa again. Dally was leaving _her _again – and for the same city as before, when she was eight years old. Of course, this time, he'd given her quite a bit of warning. But it didn't matter when Violet sat down and really thought about it. She was going to be in one place, and Dally was going to be in another. She couldn't count on him for anything. He always left, and she always stayed.

There had to be someone else out there she could talk to about this. Steve didn't quite understand. Lucy was an only child, so she wouldn't know. There had to be someone. There had to be someone who knew what it was like to have a brother you loved but couldn't quite … _get_. At least, not in the way you used to.

"Are you OK, Violet?" Lucy asked.

"Of course I'm OK," Violet said. "And even if I weren't, why would you care?"

"Because you're my family."

Violet's heart could have softened at that. It almost did. But she wouldn't let it. Lucy was ten days away from walking downstairs and out the door of Great Books for the very last time since Dally got her the place for their first Christmas (not like Violet was keeping track of her brother's redemption or anything). It wouldn't make sense to latch onto her now.

"You don't have to tell me anything," Lucy said. "But if you want to, I can promise you right now. I won't tell Dally."

"Yeah fuckin' right. You tell Dally when ya blow your nose."

"Only when the contents of the tissue are impressive."

"You're gross, ya know that? You're gross and uncool. I don't know why my brother stayed married to ya."

"Yeah, you do."

"Yeah. I do."

They were quiet for a little while. Lucy moved closer to Violet on the couch. This time, Violet didn't see any use in backing up. She wanted Lucy to sit next to her.

"You can trust me," Lucy said. "I'm not going to tell him anything he doesn't need to know. Your relationship with me doesn't have to include him if it doesn't need to."

Violet exhaled. It wasn't that she didn't want Dally to know. She did. She wanted to be the kind of sister who could run to her big brother with anything. When she was little, she thought she could have that. But then Dally ran away. And then he came back (only not to try hard enough to see her again – What _were _all those stupid letters he used to write to her, anyway?). And then he married Lucy and had Elenore, if only by dares and accidents. And after that, it felt like he was a stranger. An admirable stranger, sure, but a stranger nonetheless. She couldn't tell a stranger what she'd been up to for nearly two years now. She couldn't tell a stranger that she wasn't even sure if she was sorry to love someone who'd loved someone else since he was a kid. After all, he must have loved her, too. He never told her, but she knew. Violet hadn't known a lot of love in her life, but she knew how to spot it.

She spotted it that day in Lucy's smile at her.

"Bein' a mom has sure softened _you _up," Violet said. "I remember when I met you back when you were still seventeen. You were a tough motherfucker."

"Now I'm just a tough mother," Lucy said. "And don't you forget it."

Violet could have laughed, but she didn't. She didn't want to give Lucy the satisfaction. Someone had to be the toughest woman in the family, and Violet wasn't going to let it be anyone but herself.

And then, she began to break down her own walls.

"How do you know when ya really fuck up?" Violet asked.

"What do you mean?" Lucy said. "There are lots of ways to fuck up. Like, if you're making a Thanksgiving turkey, you know you've fucked up when the house catches on fire or if everyone gets food poisoning because you didn't cook your bird well enough."

"Wouldn't that kill someone?"

"Potentially. Why? Are you considering it? Am I giving you ideas I shouldn't be?"

That made Violet laugh (but only just a little).

"No," Violet said. "It's just … I think I'm gonna end up hurtin' somebody. It's been a long time, and that's great and all that. But since it's been so long …"

"You're waiting for the other shoe to drop."

"Kinda, yeah. And I wish I wasn't. I wish I could just be the same, tough, devil-may-care kinda kid I used to be. But I ain't really a kid anymore, am I?"

Lucy shook her head.

"Getting old, as a matter of fact," she said. "When September rolls around, you'll be twenty-one. That's old enough to lose your taste for liquor."

"I've never been a fan of anything too legal."

"I could make you a list of perfectly legal things to enjoy."

Violet snorted with some dark amusement. _Legal_. That was one thing she and Steve would never be. She'd never ask him to do that. She understood what it would mean for Steve to leave Evie for good. More than that, she understood what it would mean for Steve to choose her. He'd be throwing everything out the window. It wasn't like she could give him what he needed. The few hours they spent together in the evening and into the night would have to do. She couldn't love him right. She couldn't love anybody right.

"I think I care too much about this to make it hurt," Violet said. "Like if anything ever got out, I'm not sure what I'd do."

Lucy nodded. She wanted to hug her, but she knew Violet would never stand for it. At the same time she was resisting that urge, Violet was wishing Lucy would just give into her impulse. She could have used a sister's affection. Lord knew she was too afraid to ask for a brother's.

"Are you going to ask me what it is?" Violet asked. "Do you wanna know?"

To Violet's surprise, Lucy shook her head.

"Specificity doesn't matter here," Lucy said. "All that matters is that you find a way to be OK. Do you think you can do that?"

Violet thought of Steve. She thought of the way he smiled at her. For the past two years, he hadn't done much smiling at anyone else – just her. Maybe if she could keep him smiling, it would be enough. Maybe.

"I dunno," Violet said. "You sure you gotta pack up and move?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. You're welcome to come with us. Well, not _with us, with us_, considering our apartment is pretty small. But if you ever wanted to make it to New York …"

"Thank you, Lucy."

Lucy bowed her head a little and backed off. Violet felt sort of sorry about that. Perhaps if she was a little different – a little nicer and a little less _Violet Winston_ – then she could have very clearly conveyed her meaning to Lucy. Maybe if Violet were less _Violet_, then Lucy would have been able to tell that when Violet thanked her, she meant it.

* * *

"I guess I don't know what to expect," Lilly said as she and Johnny made their way down to Jay's for an early dinner. "I've never met a lesbian before."

"That's a joke, right?" Johnny asked. "You've known Katie since you were in diapers."

"Whether or not me and you actually ever had diapers still remains to be seen. And that ain't the point. I've known Katie forever. I never met her knowin' she was a lesbian."

"Lilly Pad, I just … I need to know that you know what you're sayin' … it's kinda not very sensitive."

"I know it's not. I know I'm bein' a jerk. It's just … I'm nervous she ain't gonna like me, this Blossom. Like, I'm nervous she's gonna think I ain't a good enough friend to Katie 'cause I like men."

"That ain't the way it works."

"How would you know? You ain't never met another lesbian, either."

"No, but I have met people. And people don't shoot down other people just 'cause of who they fall in love with."

Lilly snorted, duly amused.

"Try telling that to lesbians."

They rounded the corner and entered the restaurant. Katie and Blossom were already there in a booth toward the back. It was Lilly's favorite booth in the entire restaurant because it was where she felt she could get the most privacy. It wasn't until very recently that Katie understood the value of that.

When she saw Lilly and Johnny, Katie stood up and flagged them down.

"Over here!" she said. "Come on!"

Lilly and Johnny walked toward the booth and sat down across from Katie and Blossom, who looked different than anyone that Lilly or Johnny had ever seen. In part, they knew it was because they'd barely been away from Tulsa. In fact, Lilly wasn't sure her brother had _ever _been away from Tulsa. She'd asked him if he wanted to go with her on her trip to Austin (where Katie and Blossom met a couple of years earlier), but he declined, saying he couldn't take time off work. He and Sadie were newly married, and he didn't want to risk losing his income. He didn't want Darry to have his head for failing to provide for his kid sister. In that moment, he was wishing he'd taken the girls up on their offer. Maybe he wouldn't feel quite so out of place if he'd seen what things looked like outside his very small neighborhood.

"I'm so glad we were able to do this," Katie said. She motioned toward Blossom, whose hair just barely grazed her earlobes and who wore rounder glasses than either Lilly or Johnny had ever seen. Lilly's hands began to sweat, but she didn't know why.

"This is Blossom," Katie said. "Blossom, this is my best friend, Lilly, and this is her older brother, Johnny. Lilly and Johnny are like family to me."

"It's nice to meet you," Blossom said.

Lilly was taken aback. She hadn't expected Blossom to have a light voice like she did. She'd expected her to sound … deeper. More like Lucy, maybe. She wiped her hands on her skirt and prayed that this would be over soon (and then hated herself for it). She thought she'd be better at meeting new people. After all, she'd met the father of her baby just fine. What was so different about Katie's girlfriend? Was it that Katie was happy and in love, and she was alone? And that wasn't the way it was supposed to go? She hoped someone would come around and take her drink order sooner than later.

"You too," Johnny finally said. His voice was smaller than he'd hoped. Over the years, he'd gotten a bit louder. Living with Sadie and a baby certainly helped, especially when Michael was upset about something. Why was it gone now? What was wrong with him? Why did he suddenly sound sixteen all over again?

"So, Blossom, are you from Austin?" Lilly asked. She wasn't sure if that was the best question. She knew it shouldn't feel different than meeting anyone else. After Katie told her she was a lesbian, Lilly hadn't felt like she needed to treat or regard her any differently or more cautiously. She knew she'd only known one Katie, even if she didn't know everything about her. Why did this feel different? Blossom was someone Katie really liked – could maybe even fall in love with, if she hadn't already. It was Lilly's job to like whomever Katie brought home. They promised each other as much when they were in the second grade. It wasn't that Blossom was a woman. Lilly knew that. It wasn't that Blossom seemed mean or wrong for Katie in any way. Lilly knew that, too, just from the couple of conversations she and Katie had had with one another about her. So, what was it? Why did Lilly feel like she wanted to be anywhere but there?

"Yeah," Blossom said. She didn't seem too jazzed to be hanging out with the Cade siblings, either, but their own nervousness prevented them from being able to see it. "Born and raised. Got my degree from UT. Now I'm gettin' another from TU."

"Kinda funny that way," Johnny said. "You plan that?"

"It was about fifty percent pun," Blossom said. "The other fifty percent was getting myself back into a place where I could find Katie Mathews all over again."

Katie turned beet red and shot Lilly a look as if to say, "Isn't she adorable?" Lilly smiled back, but it felt out of place. What input could Lilly possibly offer when she was so alone herself? She didn't know how to be happy. She only knew how to be pregnant and alone.

And now, just when she needed her most, she was going to lose Katie.

"Blossom studies anthropology," Katie said. "She's so smart."

"You're smart, too, you know," Blossom said. "You keep up."

"I barely passed high school."

"Couldn't tell if I didn't know better."

Katie blushed again. Lilly wanted to disappear. Why couldn't she just be happy for Katie? They were best friends. They'd always been best friends – always would be. The look on Katie's face was the happiest and most relieved it had been since the summer they were going into the fifth grade. It made Lilly all twisted up inside. She knew why, but she pretended like she didn't. It was less awful to feign ignorance. So, she kept asking herself: _What could it be? What could it be_?

"I think it's real cool you been to so much school," Johnny said. "I'm in the same boat as Katie over here. Went to high school. Barely graduated. You could feed the horses with my grades. That's how sloppy they were."

"Oh, I'm sure they weren't that bad," Blossom said. "The way Katie talks about her friends, they all sound so smart. I can't imagine you're an exception."

"He ain't," Katie said. "Johnny's a real poet when ya get down to it. Won his wife's heart through Emily Dickinson. Didn't ya, Johnny?"

Johnny bashfully looked down at his hands and smiled. He felt comfortable talking about how much he loved Sadie in front of Lucy and Jane, but in front of his sister was a different story. At least it didn't seem like Lilly was paying very much attention. She was far away, probably thinking about herself. Normally, Johnny would have found his sister's absentia to be somewhat irritating, but now, he understood. It must have been hard not to think about your own body when it was growing something else inside of it. Even the thought was distracting and exhausting.

"Ah," Blossom said. "You show her a few wild nights?"

Johnny gave her another shy smile.

"You read Dickinson, too, huh?" he asked.

"Of course I do," Blossom said. "Gotta support my fellow queers."

Johnny bristled at the use of the word _queer_. He remembered when other guys at school used to hurl the word at him and Pony, just for liking art and sitting next to each other in the lunchroom. He remembered he didn't like it, but it wasn't always clear to him why. How could Blossom use the term so casually?

She reached out and touched his arm assuredly.

"It's OK if I say it," she said.

"Does that make sense?" Johnny asked.

"I promise it does. Katie understands. Don't you, Katie?"

Katie nodded, but judging by the look on her face, Blossom knew she wasn't all too convinced. It had been a fight to get Katie to understand a new vocabulary now that she was out of the closet. Like the Cade siblings, she'd grown up in a red and lawless part of Oklahoma where it seemed that even a straight relationship where a guy loved his girl made him gay. Katie had heard her brother and Steve Randle toss _queer _around at each other like it was a dirty word since they were just little kids. As much as she heard Blossom when she spoke, it didn't change the fact that she still felt lost in her own head. She was lost in her own head and her own set of new words and phrases, and she felt guilty for it all the time. She wanted to tell Blossom about it, but she was always afraid that Blossom (who was _so much better _at being a lesbian, and Katie knew it) would think she was weak or immature for feeling that way. Katie didn't want to be weak. She wanted to have learned _something _from the way she grew up.

"I didn't know Emily Dickinson was a lesbian," Johnny said.

Lilly looked up, stunned. Johnny had never been able to say the word _lesbian _before, and now, there he was – saying it like it was just as normal as breathing. Of course, Lilly knew it was; nonetheless, it hadn't been normal throughout Lilly and Johnny's entire childhoods. How was he coming around to Katie's new love faster than she was? Johnny wasn't her best friend. He had no right!

"Oh, yeah," Blossom said. "I mean, nobody's ever really confirmed it or anything, but it's pretty clear she was having sex with her sister-in-law."

Johnny nodded as though this was the kind of conversation he had everyday. Lilly wanted to snort with chagrin. And he'd been anxious coming into this!

Hadn't he? Or was that her the whole time?

Why did she feel this way?

"Well, that's pretty neat," Johnny said. "When I get home, I'm gonna tell Sadie about that. She might have already known. She does a lot of readin', my wife."

"Sadie's super smart," Lilly said. "She would have done real well in college if she'd been able to go."

Blossom wrinkled her nose in confusion.

"What?" she asked. "Why didn't she go to college?"

Katie opened her mouth to answer, but Lilly figured she'd take that one. After all, she wasn't very stupid herself. She could see where this one was going from a mile out, and she couldn't wait to drive it home.

_But why_? What was _wrong _with her? And why couldn't she stop?

"Her folks died when she was a teenager," Lilly said. "Not like they had a lot of cash to begin with, but that certainly didn't help. Her big brother even had to give up an athletic scholarship so he could look after Sadie and her other brothers."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Blossom was practically choking on her words. Katie grabbed her arm for moral support and shot Lilly a look as if to say, "You know you shouldn't bring up class conflict in front of an anthropologist!" And Lilly did know. So, she kept going.

"Only one of her siblings was going to get the chance at going to college, no matter how smart they were or how well they did in high school," Lilly said. "When it came down to it, the college money had to go to her little brother. He's bright, and he's a boy. So he'll make somethin' of himself. Sadie …"

Lilly looked at Johnny, who looked back at her with shame. She swallowed hard, knowing she couldn't bear to embarrass her beloved big brother at the table, even if it did mean calling Blossom out on her own privileges (which would have been the tuffest event of the year). She took a breath and then kept going.

"Sadie married Johnny," Lilly said. "And it ain't college, but it's somethin' good."

"If I could afford to send my wife to college, I know I would," Johnny said. "She's too smart to let it go to waste."

"But they ain't got the cash," Lilly said. Then, she looked right at Blossom. The longer she looked, the more she knew just how much money that girl had seen in her days. Lilly saw red. She wasn't going to be able to give her baby the same things. And it made her _angry_.

"Isn't it sad?" Lilly asked. "Isn't it so sad that someone so smart can miss out on a college education, while other people, who might only even be half as smart, can get degree after degree? I think it's sad."

Blossom looked like she was going to be sick, and as she tried to stammer out an answer, Lilly realized what she had done. She would have apologized (though she wasn't sure how much good that would have done), but before she knew it, Katie was grabbing her by the arm and yanking her into the alley.

"Ouch!" Lilly shouted. "Ouch, ouch, and OUCH!"

"I don't care about your ouch!" Katie yelled back. "What the fuck are you doin' in there?"

"I'm just talkin'. Your girlfriend needs to be taken down a peg. She's exactly the kinda girl who'd have beat up on us if she'd grown up around here. All rich and pretty. Don't tell me you don't know that."

"Blossom is not some kind of West Side Soc. And besides, Socs don't mean shit no more. We ain't kids. We're just people."

Lilly rolled her eyes.

"What has gotten into you?" Katie asked. "Didn't you see the look I was giving you back in the booth? I was trying to tell you, 'You know you shouldn't bring up class conflict in front of an anthropologist!'"

"And I heard ya. Loud and clear. I just didn't listen."

"But _why_?"

Lilly frowned. She didn't really have an answer. She just hated it when new people tried to move in on her territory. This was her house. Damned if Lilly was going to let her steal her best friend. Damned.

"I just don't think she's good enough for you," Lilly said. "She looks all … clean."

"I like that she's clean," Katie said. "And I like that she's smart and good at books and school. You've never hated things like that before."

"Well, I changed my mind."

"No, you didn't. Come on, Lilly. You can't act like this. You barely even know Blossom. It's not fair."

"I don't have to know her to have a feeling about her."

"She's done nothing but be nice and make conversation!"

"But I don't _get _the things she's talkin' about!"

"You don't get school? You don't get Emily Dickinson? You're Johnny's sister, ain't you?"

"Shut up, Katie."

"No. I'm not gonna shut up until you tell me what the fuck is wrong with you. This ain't the Lilly I've been braggin' about every time Blossom asks me about my friends. I don't know who the hell you're playin', but it ain't my best friend. You're gonna be a mother soon. You can't act like a kid and have one, too. I thought you knew that."

Katie turned quickly on her heels and headed back into the restaurant.

"Where are you going?" Lilly asked.

"To apologize to my girlfriend for _your _bullshit," Katie spat back. "And if you ever wanna tell me what the fuck your problem is, I'll be ready to listen."

Katie walked back inside, and Lilly stayed in the alley, thinking. She paced around and all she could think of was when Dally had taken Two-Bit out back to that very spot and punched his lights out for groping Violet back when she was fifteen. She wondered if he felt this alone.

But then, Lilly knew she wasn't alone. From now on, wherever she went, she'd have to carry this baby – this nameless, weightless secret that she was too embarrassed to share with anyone except Johnny and Katie.

And maybe that was what Lilly feared most. She didn't like the idea that Katie would be spending her time with someone else and forgetting about her while she was busy being embarrassingly pregnant. She didn't like the idea of Katie dating someone who had certain rights and privileges that she'd never had – that her baby would never have. But perhaps what Lilly feared most was that Katie was bringing in a new set of eyes to look at her and judge her – to remind her that she wasn't fit to be a mother and that she wouldn't have gotten herself into this mess if she weren't some poor slut, desperate for attention in the wake of her nightmarish father's death. She didn't know if those thoughts would come from the stranger or not, but it was easy to have them when there was a stranger sitting right there. That way, Lilly wouldn't have to admit that the thoughts were her own.

She took a deep breath and slowly headed back into Jay's to eat crow. She'd make it through the rest of the outing, but as soon as it was over, she knew where she needed to be.

* * *

"Do you ever think about college?"

Sadie looked up from the mushy peas she fed Michael in his highchair and cocked her eyebrows at Johnny.

"What do you mean by that?" she asked.

"The usual way, I guess," Johnny said and sat down next to her at the table. "Do you ever think about what you'd be doin' right now if you'd gone?"

Sadie sighed and nodded. She thought about it everyday. Of course, she wouldn't say anything to Johnny out of fear he'd think she wasn't grateful for their family. She was. There were just those moments – more of them than she was proud to have – when she wished they were more like the Bennet-Winstons.

"I mean, I guess," she said. "Sort of."

"What do ya think you would have majored in? Would you have done English like Lucy and Pony? Philosophy like Carrie?"

Sadie sighed. She knew that Johnny was just trying to be nice. That was what he did best. But it still hurt to have seen Lucy graduate with her degree and now, to watch Ponyboy achieve his. She knew she could have done it, too, but it didn't matter. It wasn't meant to be for her. Curtis kids didn't get nice things unless they broke their backs to do something for one of them. But it was never for Sadie. Never for Sadie.

"I don't think I'd have done either of those," Sadie said. "I might not read for grades and all that, but I been readin' a lot since we've been married, especially right after Michael was born. And you know what I'm into?"

"What?" Johnny asked.

"Psychology and stuff. I like to think about why we think. What makes us tick as people, ya know? I think I'd have gone into that."

Johnny nodded. He'd read about what psychologists do – talk to people and listen to them and stuff. He knew Sadie would have made a great one. He hoped he'd be able to give her the kind of life and the kind of home where she could really go after that one day if she still wanted to. He'd throw his back into his work even more if it meant he got to give Sadie what she thought she could never have.

"What about you?" Sadie asked. "Do you ever think about college?"

"Oh, sure," Johnny said. "I think how I hope we can afford to send Michael when he gets older. Think about how we can send the kids we're gonna have later."

"I meant for yourself."

"Aww, shoot, Sadie. Don't play me that way. You know my grades weren't hot enough for that."

"Oh, please. They'll let anybody into college, especially somebody as smart as you. Stupid school not takin' you seriously enough when you said you needed more time on tests. You could've done every bit as well as Pony in those classes, you know."

Johnny nodded again. He'd always known that, but every time he'd mustered up the courage to say something, the teachers would tell him there was nothing he could do. He got to watch Soc kids take extra time on tests because their folks were rich and attentive enough to get them to the right doctors and fill out the right paperwork. Johnny knew he probably needed it, too, but there was nothing he could do. There was never anything he could do.

He looked at Michael and promised him all over again that as he grew, his life would be different than the one his father had.

"So, whaddya say?" Sadie asked. "If you'd been able to go to college, what would you have done?"

Johnny thought for a moment, though the answer was one of the easiest he'd ever given.

"I'd have gone into poetry, I think," he said. "I don't know if there's some fancy degree program for that, but it's what I would have done. Of course, then we'd be in more debt than we are already."

"We spend our whole lives quotin' the poets, and yet, we don't pay 'em enough to eat."

"It's a shame."

"You're tellin' me. Anyway, what's up with you? What's with all the questions about college?"

Johnny shrugged. He didn't want to get into all the ugly details about his outing with Lilly, Katie, and Katie's new girlfriend, especially since Lilly was about to move into the new Cade house. He didn't want Sadie to change her mind. Lilly was a lot of things, but she didn't deserve to be out on her own. If Johnny could help her, he would. That was what he promised her when they were little kids, and he was going to keep up his end of the bargain.

"Katie's girlfriend's goin' to TU for her master's degree," Johnny said. "Got me thinkin'. I dunno. Just a buncha wishes that'll never come true."

Sadie thought she might know where this was going. She stood up to put the empty jar of baby food on the kitchen counter.

"I know what you're asking," she said.

"What do you mean?" Johnny asked.

"Don't be coy with me. It makes sense. Lucy's movin' so she can go to graduate school in New York. You meet Katie's new girlfriend, and she's got a shiny college degree. All the while, me and you are still here, in a house smaller than the ones we grew up in, tryin' to have a second baby. And all before we're twenty-two."

Johnny looked down at his hands. Sadie always did have his number.

"You gotta hand it to me," Johnny said. "I have every right to wonder, considerin' where we were at after we first got married."

"Where we were at was very different than where we are now," Sadie said. "We were nineteen years old. My brother – my _twin _brother, as a matter of fact – had just gotten his draft card in the mail, and I didn't know if I was ever going to see him again. I felt very guilty about being happy when he was off nearly gettin' his brains blown out everyday."

"Why're you yellin' at me?"

"I'm not. But I'm sorry."

Johnny nodded.

"'S OK. I know ya try."

She really did. Sadie had grown up in a loving but often chaotic home where there had been a _lot _of yelling. Even when her parents were alive, they spent probably a half an hour a day yelling at the kids to do stuff. If Darry was running late to pick Pony up from track practice, they yelled at him to get a move on. If Soda had forgotten to take the garbage out, they yelled at him to get a move on. Most of it was about startling the kids into acting like functional human beings, but it was always done out of love and concern. The Cade house was just as loud and just as chaotic but with no rationale and no love – only drunkenness and antipathy. Sadie knew that even if her voice became a little stern, Johnny interpreted it as anger or yelling when none of her brothers would have thought the same way. It was initially difficult to get used to, but for Johnny, she would. She'd married him for a reason, and it wasn't just a roof over her head.

"Look, I know you're askin' me if I'm startin' to regret that I married you," Sadie said. "You're seein' a lot of people succeed in college, and you know that if my folks had had the money or if I was the youngest in the family, I'd have gone to college, too."

"Well, yeah," Johnny said. "Can ya blame me? When you first said yes to a date with me, I couldn't believe somebody as smart as Sadie Curtis would wanna waste her time with a dope like me."

Sadie kissed her husband's cheek.

"You're not a dope," she said. "You'll never be a dope. But I'd be lyin' if I said I didn't think about goin' to college and havin' a different life. I do think about it."

_Everyday_, she thought, but that was a secret she'd keep until her last breath.

Johnny looked like he was going to be sick, so Sadie quickly continued with her thought.

"But I wouldn't trade," Sadie said, and she meant it. "This … what we've got here … it's what I want. It's what I've always wanted. I think there was a time when I was afraid. Like I was doing a disservice to women everywhere if this was what I really wanted – to be with you and to be a mother. But I'm not. This is my place, and it's where I wanna be. I wouldn't go anywhere else."

Johnny was quite sure he believed her, but he was also quite sure she was leaving something out. After all, he knew her better than anyone.

"Well, maybe I'd go to Disneyland," Sadie said. "I've never been, and it always looks like so much fun in the pictures."

Johnny laughed a little.

"Disneyland," he repeated. "Not very tuff."

"No, but we could bring Michael. And the new baby, when she gets here."

"Still think this one's a girl?"

"I'm one for one, Johnny. Ya gotta admit. It's pretty impressive."

"It ain't, but I'll give it to ya, anyway, 'cause I love you."

"I love you, too."

She was about to suggesting getting ready to put Michael down for a nap so they could continue their quest for a second baby, but there was an unexpected knock at the door. Sadie's heart jumped into her throat. It had been a year, and she still associated unexpected knocks with news about Soda on the other side of the door.

"What was that?" Johnny asked.

"The door," Sadie said as she got up to get it. "Don't worry. I'll handle it."

When she opened the door, she wasn't sure if she was really seeing the person there. It was a face she'd almost forgotten about over the years. Heard about, yes, but never really seen, lurking in the shadows wondering if it was acceptable to rejoin the tribe now that it was growing and changing.

"Violet?" she asked.

Violet Winston smiled at her, half sincere, half full of garbage.

"Hey, Curtis," she said. "Ya got a minute?"

* * *

"Are you still mad at me?"

Jane looked up at Soda from over the kitchen sink where she washed the dishes from dinner. It had just been the two of them. Pony was out with Carrie, and Darry, Lynnie, and Jimmy had gone over to the Bennets' to visit with Lynnie's aunt and uncle. Their dinner had been quiet and awkward, but Jane hadn't thought much of it.

"For what?" she asked.

"Well, for the other night at the Dingo," Soda said. "When I didn't wanna talk about havin' kids."

Jane sighed a little. She'd been thinking about that, too, and she knew she was out of line. She'd been trying too hard to pressure Soda into things he used to want (and still wanted, just at a different pace than either of them had figured) since he got back. It was time for her to step back and let him have his moments in his time.

"I'm not mad at you for that," she said.

"Really?" Soda asked, surprised. "But I was actin' like a real jackass."

"So was I. Look, I know there's things goin' on in your head, and I know they don't sound anything like the things goin' on in mine. And I ain't askin' you to draw me a picture."

"Good, 'cause I ain't the brother who's good with a colored pencil."

Jane stifled a laugh. And Soda thought he wasn't as clever as his siblings.

"Look," Jane said. "I can't imagine what you must be going through all the time, even now, a year since you been back home."

Soda looked down at the ground. It was embarrassing. It was embarrassing to be one of those guys who came home broken. He knew it when people looked at him limping across the same streets down which he used to backflip. Other guys – younger guys or guys who'd narrowly escaped the war, like Dally and Johnny – looked at him and knew. _There goes Sodapop Curtis. Did ya hear? He's fuckin' fallin' apart_. _Bet he can't even show that wife of his a good time_.

"I can't imagine it," Jane said again. "But I want to."

Soda looked up at her, taken aback.

"What?" he asked.

But Jane was just nodding.

"Ya heard me," she said. "I can't imagine what must be goin' on when you close your eyes, but I want to."

Soda turned sheepish.

"Now, Janie," he said, almost stammering. "You gotta know. There's a reason I didn't tell ya anything in my letters back home. There's a reason I swore Darry to secrecy when I finally broke down and told him some. Hell, there's a reason Steve won't talk to ya like he used to when we was just kids. None of our stories are pretty. You ever see _The Best Years of Our Lives_?"

Jane nodded.

"It came on the TV once while you were away," Jane said. She liked to use that phrase _when you were away_. It made it seem like he'd gone for a really long business trip (that ended in a freak injury they hardly ever talked about). "God, it was forever and a day long."

"Yeah, well, this is the real-life version," Soda said. "At least, it's as real as it's gonna get."

Jane finished the last of the dishes and then turned to firmly face Soda. He gulped. He hadn't seen Jane look this intimidating since she was a young teenager. He smiled to himself. This was the Jane he'd missed out on all those years ago. He was glad she was making a comeback.

"Soda," she said. "I don't fuckin' care where ya been. I don't care how horrible it is. Even if I puke up everything we just ate for dinner, I don't fuckin' care. I'm tired of feelin' like we're on two separate islands. I married you to be with you. And this is not _with you_. It's next to you, but it's not with you."

Soda nodded. Jane was right. She had a knack for that.

"I hear ya," he said. "So, whadda we do?"

With something of a smile, Jane grabbed Soda's hand and led him onto the couch – the one the family still clung to, as though keeping it made any difference. They sat quietly for a moment or two, looking at each other with almost childlike anticipation.

"I want you to tell me the truth," Jane said. "Look into your mind. Tell me somethin' I need to know."

"Like what?" Soda asked, though he thought he knew the answer.

"Like about who you are now that you've been gone. Tell me somethin' about where ya were. What ya did. I don't care how dark it is or how light. If it's weighin' on you, I wanna know. And don't ask me if I'm sure, 'cause I am. That'd just be stallin'."

That made Soda laugh a little. Jane was funny when she was abrupt.

"One time, when you wrote home, you said you were gonna be different," Jane said. "And at first, I don't think I was ready for that. Oh, I made believe it, but that wasn't enough. Gettin' into that fight with you down at the Dingo on Monday was what made me realize what you meant. And I'm ready now. So don't feel like ya gotta protect me no more. I can handle it. You're my husband now, and I can handle it."

Soda took a deep breath. He looked at Jane, and for the first time since they got married the July before, he knew she was different now, too. She wasn't the same kid who beat up other kids when they pissed her off, stole money out of Soc boys' back pockets to buy herself miniskirts, or swiped tubes of lipstick from the store without getting caught. Jane Randle wasn't a kid anymore. She was Jane Curtis, and she was his wife. That meant something more than sex and inevitable parenthood. It meant he could trust her to know him. It meant she didn't care if he was embarrassing.

"OK," he said. "I'll tell ya somethin'."

* * *

It was about ten o'clock at night when Lucy and Dally climbed into bed. They'd been up a long time with Elenore who wanted to know why it was OK to bring toys and books with them to New York, but it wasn't OK to bring the people she loved, like Soda and Sadie. When Lucy said it was easier to put books and toys into boxes, she asked if Soda and Sadie could fold themselves up real small. The conversation continued like that until Dally (kindly yet impatiently) stood up and told Elenore that everything would make more sense if she slept on it. Elenore listened to him. She always listened to him. Lucy pretended like it was just a coincidence and not a hangover from 1968.

"Tomorrow we should start packing up the kitchen stuff we know we're not going to use in the next week and a half," Lucy said. "Just little by little."

"Sure," Dally said. "Do you ever use kitchen stuff?"

"I use utensils. Plates, bowls."

"Yeah, but that's usually to eat stuff you ordered us from some place else."

"I've cooked."

"Is that what you call it?"

"Look, if you wanted to marry someone who was real good at the domestic stuff, there were plenty of girls in one of the home ec classes who would have gladly … actually, no. I'm the only person crazy enough to have married you."

"So, now you gotta be crazy to marry me?"

"Don't act like that's some big shock."

Dally snorted, amused.

"You're right," he said. "It ain't. You glad, though?"

"Glad of what?"

"That ya listened to those idiot twins and married me when they dared ya."

Lucy leaned over and quickly kissed her husband's lips. He tried to conceal his less-than-tough blush. It was no use. Lucy noticed. She wouldn't comment, but she noticed. That was enough for her – to know that she could fluster the most dangerous guy in the neighborhood, even after all these years.

"I think you know the answer to that," she said.

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Prove it."

Lucy smirked and began to remove her bra to prove it the only way she knew how, but then (in keeping with the theme of the day), there was an unexpected knock at the door.

"How the fuck did someone get in here past business hours?" Dally asked.

"I don't know," Lucy said. "I told you to close the shop downstairs while I helped Elenore pack up some of her clothes."

Dally rolled his eyes. He was responsible, but he wouldn't be _held _responsible. That was his way.

"I might have forgotten where you keep the key," he said.

"Oh, please."

There was another knock at the door. Lucy got up to answer it, but Dally pulled her back into bed.

"Is this really the time?" she asked and tried to wriggle free. He wouldn't budge.

"It ain't about your body, Bennet," Dally said. "It's kinda late for out here. That could be anybody."

"It could also be your sister. Ever think of that?"

"Oh, yeah. You never told me what happened there. Is she … ya know…?"

"She's fine. I promised her I wouldn't tell you. I think she's embarrassed. Now, would you let me go? That could be Violet."

"It's not Violet!" came the familiar voice from the other side of the door. "Could you please let me in?"

Lucy wrinkled her nose in confusion and surprise.

"Lilly?" she called out.

"Yeah!" Lilly shouted back through the door. "Can ya let me in? I feel weird just standin' outside, listenin' to the two of you bicker like this."

Dally let go of his grip, and Lucy climbed out of bed to answer the door. Sure enough, there was Lilly, mouth agape at the sight of Lucy in her underwear.

"Hi, Lilly," Lucy said. "What brings you here in the middle of the fucking night?"

"Emphasis on the _fucking_, apparently," Lilly said. "Do you not wear clothes to bed?"

Lucy blushed.

"If you'd come by earlier, I would have been more fully dressed than this," she said.

"But not much!" Dally called out to Lilly at the door. "She keeps herself in varying shades of undressed. Makes it easy for me when I want her."

Lucy whirled around to glare at her husband.

"Are you a fucking caveman?" she asked through gritted teeth.

"What?"

"Don't act like one!"

Dally rolled his eyes, and Lucy turned back around to face Lilly, still not sure what she would be doing at her apartment.

"Uh, Lilly, it's not like I'm unhappy to see you," Lucy said. "I just think it's kind of odd you'd show up here past ten and not at Katie's or something. Did you and Katie have a fight?"

Lilly nodded.

"Sort of," she said. "I acted like a jackass. I didn't get a chance to apologize. It's … well, it's a thing, but it ain't your thing. Can I come in all the way? It's kinda drafty in the stairwell."

Lucy stepped aside and let Lilly into the apartment. As soon as she stepped inside, Lucy's skin became hot and cold with nerves. There were moving boxes _everywhere _that she hadn't bothered to hide. She expected Lilly to say something right away (the gossip she was), but she didn't. That was when Lucy figured whatever was on her mind must have been terribly serious.

"Can I sit down?" Lilly asked, and Lucy nodded.

"Of course you can," Lucy said. "You don't have to ask. You know you're always welcome here."

Lilly tried to smile as she sat down, and Lucy followed suit. They were quiet for a moment. When they heard Dally roll over on his side and cover his ears with a pillow, they figured they could break the silence.

"Look, Lilly, if you need someone to …"

"I'm pregnant."

Lucy's eyes widened. Of all the things she'd expected Lilly Cade to say, this was the last of them. All Lucy could sputter up was, "What?"

Lilly nodded frantically.

"Was it…?" Lucy started, "was it Two-Bit?"

Thankfully, Lilly shook her head.

"No," she said. Her voice was uncharacteristically small. "It's not. I don't know who it is, and I don't wanna hear …"

But Lucy swept Lilly up into a hug. Lilly slowly eased into it. This was all she needed. It had been a long time since someone had comforted her without rushing into ask her what she was going to do or how she was going to keep herself alive. She didn't expect she'd get it from Lucy, but she accepted it. She hugged her back with twice the force.

"Are you OK?" Lucy asked. She sounded so much like a mother. Lilly wished she would be around for longer so she could learn from her.

"I don't know," Lilly said. "I think so, sometimes, and then I lose my temper and say shit I don't mean. I was a jackass in front of Katie's new girlfriend today."

"Katie has a new girlfriend?"

"Keep up."

"Sorry."

Lilly sighed. She moved out of Lucy's hug and walked toward the door.

"Anyway, I don't gotta stay or nothin'," Lilly said. "Johnny and Sadie are gonna let me live with them till I can figure things out on my own. Can't really live in the same house as my old lady when I got a baby. Trust me. I lived in that house as a baby. Not ideal."

"Well, you don't have to rush out of here, either," Lucy said.

"Lucy, please. You're in your underwear. Dally's got a pillow over his ears. It's gettin' closer and closer to midnight the longer I stand here and pretend like I don't feel like cryin'. Really, I can go."

"So, you drop a bomb and exit?"

"Worked for Truman."

"Depends on who you ask."

"My dead father, whose one commitment in life was to vote for the most horrible presidential candidates he could?"

Lucy wanted to cry. Over the past year, as she reacquainted herself with motherhood, she'd become much softer than that teenage girl arrested for aggravated assault in the lunchroom.

"Lilly," she said.

"It's OK, Lucy," Lilly said. "I just couldn't stand the thought of you not knowin' the truth for another minute. I guess I could've waited until the morning, but I just …"

She started to cry, and it stung.

"I just really didn't want to," she said. "And I don't know what I was hopin' to get outta seein' you this time of night … or at all … I guess I was kinda hopin' it'd be like when I was fifteen, and you were the only one who …"

Her voice trailed off before she went silent. Lucy remembered. She thought about it all the time, especially now that she was the mother of a young daughter. In so many ways, Lilly at twenty was so much different than Lilly at fifteen. She was undoubtedly wiser and more aware of what she wanted – less concerned with the way other perceived her. And yet, when Lucy looked at her friend that night, she saw the same kid she'd always known. Scared. Alone. Lucy did not cry. Lilly was strong, and she didn't deserve pity. But she did deserve support.

"I guess I was kinda hopin' you could teach me how to be a mom," Lilly said. "Ya know, not today, but maybe …"

"Whatever you need, Lilly."

Lilly nodded. That was Lucy – tougher than nails on the surface, but below it, devoted to you for the rest of her life. Lilly thought back to the way Johnny used to talk about Dally. It really wasn't any wonder Lucy and Dally had managed to stay together for so long.

"That's all," Lilly said. "I just … couldn't stand the thought of you not knowing. I don't have to stay, but …"

"Call me if you need to talk," Lucy said. "I'm here."

"I know."

As Lilly walked out of the Bennet-Winstons apartment that night, she was left with two distinct feelings. First and foremost, she was overwhelmed with love for Lucy Bennet and wished, like she always had, that she and Johnny had been born as Bennets. Secondly, and perhaps more importantly, she was confused.

If Lucy and Dally weren't moving to New York until August, why were half of their things already boxed up?

* * *

**And there we go! The problem with writing this story as slowly as I've been writing it is that I forget some of the details. I had to make a mental note to myself that Johnny secretly knows Lucy and Dally's actual moving date, and now, Lilly does, too. So, you can bet that's going to come up sooner rather than later. I went back to work today after a long winter break, and so far, so great! My teaching load is smaller this term, so maybe I'll have a chance to do more writing. We'll see!**

**Hinton owns **_**The Outsiders**_**. I quote "King of the Road" by Roger Miller in this chapter, which I clearly don't own. Once again, I quote "Elenore" by The Turtles, which I still don't own, but it's part of my **_**aesthetic**_**. I do own a number of 24-hour lipsticks. Believe me, I am thankful for those.**


	7. Chapter 7

Lucy and Elenore made their way down to the grocery store where Dally was pulling one of his last shifts before the move. On their way into the store, they almost collided with Lynnie, whose arms were full of groceries for dinner at the Curtis house.

"Lynnie!" Elenore shouted.

"Hey, Elenore!" Lynnie said. "How're you doing, sweetheart?"

"I'm gonna go see my dad."

"That's wonderful! I just saw him by the bread. He looks kinda bored. I think you're just what he needs."

Elenore beamed, and Lynnie switched her focus toward Lucy.

"He really looks like he's gonna blow his brains out," Lynnie said. "You must be one tamer of shrews, Lucy. I know I didn't know Dally when he was a kid or anything, but Darry and Pony have told me enough stories to fill at least a couple of just …_ riveting _books. The fact that you can tame him to the point where he works at a grocery store … that's impressive."

"Nobody's taming anyone," Lucy said. "Dally works here because he chose to stay and be Elenore's dad."

"Dad is your _husband_!" Elenore piped up. She'd recently added the words _husband _and _wife _to her vocabulary, and she liked to use new words whenever possible. Lucy kissed her daughter's cheek.

"He absolutely is," she said. "Because he _wants _to be, not because I tamed him."

"Aww, come on," Lynnie goaded. "Don't you want to say you did? You know? Pull a little 'reverse Petruchio' action?"

"Ah, yes, the reverse Petruchio," Lucy said. "A Shakespeare scholar's favorite move in the bedroom. Seems painful. I'll pass."

Lynnie rolled her eyes and tried to stifle a laugh. Lucy noticed and pretended not to. Lynnie liked to pretend that she was the cooler cousin because she was three years older, but both of them knew better.

"Well, either way," Lynnie said. "I'll bet Dally is really excited about when he can finally quit his grocery store job for the move."

Lucy almost replied, but then, she remembered that Elenore was on her hip. She looked at her little one carefully and felt nervous. Though Elenore was somehow the only three-year-old in the world with any understanding of tact, Lucy became suddenly aware that they'd never talked about the move in front of people when Elenore was listening. They hadn't told Lynnie the real date, despite her being family, because of her ear for gossip and engagement to Darry (the brother of the very last person they were looking forward to telling about the real date of the move). But as Lucy looked into Lynnie's eyes – eyes that had loved her and looked out from her since the day Lynnie and her parents came to meet Lucy in the hospital the day after she was born – she wasn't sure she could rightly keep the secret for very much longer.

"Yeah," Lucy finally said. "We're not quite sure what he's going to pick up once we get to the city. Hopefully not pickpocketing."

"Oh, I don't know," Lynnie said. "Think of all the thinks he could pickpocket in Manhattan. You could end up with two tickets for _Promises, Promises_ and enough money for a sitter."

"I don't know what the worst part of that half-cocked thought of yours is. No, I do, and it's that you think my husband has the wherewithal to sit through _Promises, Promises_."

"It's supposed to be fantastic!"

"Dallas Winston."

"You said it yourself that he surprises you."

"Yeah, by avoiding crimes to stick around for his daughter. The minute he sits through a Broadway musical is the minute I accept Soda's theory about Dally having turned into a pod person when we met."

"You're funny. Have I ever told you that you're funny?"

"You used to say I was a pain in the ass."

"I never said _ass_."

"In so many words, Lynn. In so many words."

Lynnie smiled at Lucy again, and Lucy's heart lurched. In the years since she and her parents had been in Tulsa, she'd almost forgotten about how close she and Lynnie used to be. Maybe it was the warmth of her grin against those bright blue eyes. Maybe it was the glittering of Mrs. Curtis's ring on her finger, reminding the cousins that they could breathe and let themselves be happy even though they often forgot to do just that. But Lucy couldn't hide anymore. She couldn't let Lynnie fall to the wayside. She needed to tell her the truth about when she'd be moving. Otherwise, she might lose her again like she lost her after the first wedding, and Lucy wasn't ready for another two years of radio silence.

"I should go talk to Dally," Lucy finally said. "I'm sure Elenore's getting antsy to see her dad."

"Dad!" Elenore said.

"That's right. Dad. He's around here somewhere. Probably putting day-old stickers on bread so we can get it for cheaper."

"Smarter than he looks," Lynnie said. "I'll see you later, Lucy, OK?"

"Of course."

As soon as Lynnie was out the door, Lucy took Elenore's hand and made a mad dash to the back of the store to find Dally.

"Mom!" Elenore giggled. "Why're we goin' so fast?"

"Well, that's an excellent question, Elenore," Lucy said. "We probably don't _need _to book it at the speed of light, but we are, anyway."

"But _why_?"

"Because your mother is an odd bird, and running like the fate of the world depends on it can be fun. Don't you think?"

"I'm so fast!"

Lucy laughed out loud.

"Yes, baby," she said. "You are."

They made it to the back of the store, in the bread aisle. Sure enough, there was Dallas Winston, surreptitiously slapping big, yellow, "DAY OLD" stickers on the fresh loaves of bread – the loaves Lucy and Elenore liked best. Lucy rolled her eyes in jest.

"You better watch it," she said. "I could've been your boss."

"Well, you ain't a 300-pound man with a beard down to the fuckin' floor," Dally said without looking up from the stickers. "I can usually see those comin' and goin'."

"I could have been."

Dally finally looked up and had to fight the urge to smile at Lucy.

"Yeah, but you're not," he said. "And besides, even if ya were my boss, what'd happen? He'd fire me? We're leavin' this place in a week and a half. He already knows I'm outta here. What good would it do him?"

"We need that week and a half of money, you know," Lucy said. "We're Tulsa poor. Tulsa poor is Manhattan _dead_."

"Aww, Bennet, don't be stupid. Even the corpses in Manhattan make more'n we ever will."

Lucy groaned, and Dally had to laugh. He scooped Elenore up into his arms, and she giggled on the way up. It made Lucy so happy to know that Elenore loved him. It made her even happier to know that Dally loved her, even if he was too tuff to say it.

"Whaddya think, Elenore?" Dally asked. "Fresh bread at a low price?"

"We saw Lynnie," Elenore said.

"This kid, I swear. Sometimes, she follows a conversation clearer than any fuckin' adult I've ever known. And then, sometimes, she talks like she's …"

"Three years old?" Lucy asked.

"Yeah. Explain that."

"Simple. She's three years old."

"That ain't good enough. So, ya saw Lynnie on your way in?"

"Yeah. And I've been thinking."

"That can't be good."

"Relax, would you? I think it's fine."

"See, you're tellin' me that ya _think_. I only trust ya when ya say ya _know_."

"That's not true."

"You don't know. You don't know my brain."

"I know your brain better than you do."

"That's probably true. Anyway, lay it on me, Bennet. I'm all yours."

"What about me?" Elenore asked.

"Yours, too."

"Good!"

Lucy inhaled and exhaled slowly. Dally looked like he could run through a wall. He hated it when she strung him along. He swore she just liked the dramatics. She was too much like Lilly Cade in that way. Before he could shout at her to just _out with it, already_, Lucy spoke.

"I think we should tell Lynnie our moving date," she blurted.

"Well, we already told her," Dally said. "We told her we were movin' August 1, just like we told anybody who wasn't family."

"Yeah, but Lynnie _is _family. She's my cousin. We told my parents the real date. Doesn't make sense that we tell their niece the real date, too?"

"See, it would. It would make perfect sense if she was just your cousin who happened to live a couple-a blocks away. But she ain't. She's gettin' married to Darry, and if your cousin marries Darry, then he becomes family, so we gotta tell him."

"You know it doesn't have to …"

"And then if we tell Darry, 'cause he's your cousin's husband, we gotta tell Pony and Soda, 'cause they're your cousin's husband's brothers. That's almost like they're your cousins."

"You're forgetting …"

"Oh, you fuckin' well know I'm not. Darry ain't got just brothers. They might be livin' in house, but there's another kid we're forgettin' about."

"Stop it."

"Stop it!" Elenore echoed joyfully. Lucy tried to smile, but it didn't work.

"If we tell all the brothers 'cause they got some connection to your cousin, we'll have to tell their _sister_," Dally said. "And their sister is Sadie, who is your best friend, who is exactly the reason we were plannin' on dashin' outta this place right after the wedding any fuckin' way!"

Lucy frowned. For a moment, she felt like she might cry. Before Dally could say anything, Elenore smacked him in the chest to get his attention.

"Ouch!" he said.

"OK, you realize you've literally been stabbed," Lucy said.

"Don't say _stabbed _around the k-i-d."

"That's literally not the word you should have spelled."

"Why do you keep sayin' _literally_, man? It's weird!"

Elenore smacked her father in the chest again.

"Ouch!"

"Dad!" Elenore said. Her voice was as firm as if it belonged to an adult woman. "Mom is sad. Can you make her better?"

Lucy smiled at Elenore, but her heart broke, too. She hated the fact that her sadness and anxiety was getting through to her daughter. That was one thing she knew about being a parent – you never wanted your kid to feel sad or anxious a day in her life. She often wondered if there was anything she could do to prevent it, but the thinking and the worrying made her feel anxious even more. She opened her arms and took Elenore from Dally.

"Look, Bennet, I'm sorry," he said. "It's just … we're doin' all these backflips and shit to keep Sadie outta the loop, even though I think it's wrong … and if I think it's wrong, it's gotta be really, really fuckin' wrong."

Lucy rolled her eyes even though Dally had a point. Dally _always _had a point.

"But ya can't have it both ways," he said. "If ya tell Lynnie, ya gotta tell everyone else. That's the way it works 'round here. C'mon, man. You know that."

Lucy sighed, and Elenore reached out and touched her mother with all the love in the world. Lucy's heart broke a little more (if that were even possible). Elenore was such a little sweetheart, and Lucy wondered for the briefest moment where she might have learned to be so sweet, given the fact that she and Dally were her parents. Then, of course, she knew. It would kill Lucy to tear Elenore away from Sodapop.

"I know," Lucy said.

"We could always just tell Sadie," Dally said. "We're gonna have to, anyway."

But Lucy shook her head.

"I'm just not ready," she said.

"And I've tried to give ya the space on that, Bennet, I really have. But you're gonna have to get ready. 'Cause we're goin'. And it's gonna be way worse if Sadie walks into the store and finds an empty apartment with a note on the door than if we just tell her now, to her face."

Lucy sighed. Elenore reached out and touched her mother's face, and Lucy almost smiled.

"OK," she said. "I'll get ready."

"That's more like it, man," Dally said. "Now, can you let me finish puttin' these day-old stickers on fresh bread? We may be outta here soon, but we still gotta eat."

Lucy chuckled a little, and she and Elenore walked off into another aisle. As Lucy aimlessly wandered through the cake mixes, flour, and sugar, she thought about what it might be like to tell Sadie the truth about when she and Dally were moving. She thought about it for real – not in the worst and best case scenarios she'd been dreaming up for the past few months. She thought about how it would really feel when she told Sadie the truth. When she happened upon it in between the baking soda and the flour, she felt her heart drop to her gut, and then her gut fell through the tile. It was horrifying.

She couldn't be sure, of course, but she could be close to that. And that was bad enough. When Lucy thought about what it would be like to tell Sadie the truth about the family's moving date, she now felt _nothing_.

And she had no idea what was supposed to mean.

* * *

"Let's say you had a secret."

"Huh?"

Johnny looked up at Lilly with terror in his eyes. It was the middle of the afternoon on their respective days off, and Sadie would still be at work for another half an hour or so – a rare moment wherein the siblings were alone at the new Cade house, save for Michael, who was down for his afternoon nap (and, by nature of being a baby, not very interested in his aunt's gossip).

When Lilly saw the look on her brother's face, she rolled hers.

"Oh, please," she said. "I know you heard me."

"You said I had a secret," Johnny said. "And I ain't keepin' nothin' from you. Honest."

"Again, I say, 'oh, please.' We both know that's a load of bull. You and Sadie are keepin' somethin' from me right now. You're tryin' to have a second kid."

"How did you…?"

"It was _my _suggestion, remember? Plus, the walls in this house are real fuckin' thin. You mind easin' it up a little bit, man? I think it worked. I think ya knocked her up good."

Lilly glanced at her own midsection, which was (less than a week after discovering her pregnancy) flat as a board.

"Kinda like me," she added.

Johnny's cheeks turned about as pink as they could get.

"Well, c'mon," he said. "What other secret could you be talkin' about? I mean, me and Sadie already know about you."

"OK, you do realize that secrets can be about more than who's knocked up and who's not, right?" Lilly asked. "It's very important to me that you know that."

Johnny's blush only deepened.

"Well, if it ain't about that, you better come out with it," Johnny said. "Don't leave me hangin'. It ain't right."

Lilly exhaled.

"OK," she said. "But it's only because I've been dyin' to tell somebody since late last night, and somethin' tells me I couldn't say anything in front of Sadie, so I had to wait till she was outta the house for awhile to say somethin'. And I know I can count on you to keep quiet about it."

Johnny looked up at Lilly like he already knew what she was going to say.

"OK," he said. "What is it?"

"I went to Lucy and Dally's place kinda late last night," Lilly said. "I don't know what came over me. I guess after fightin' with Katie I needed somebody, and I remembered how Lucy was there for me when I was still a kid, ya know? Well, I went to her, and I told her about bein' knocked up."

"Is that somethin' you want gettin' out?" Johnny asked.

"Well, I guess it don't really matter. It literally can't stay in."

"Fair enough. Sorry. Keep goin'."

"Well, it was all fine and good. But when I turned around to leave and come back here, I noticed somethin' real weird."

"What was it?"

"Half of Lucy and Dally's shit is all packed up in boxes _already_. And if they ain't plannin' to make the move until the first of August … what are they doin' packin' up all this shit they're gonna need for the next three months? Huh? What's that about?"

When she looked Johnny in the eye after telling him the secret, she was shocked that he didn't seem more shocked. She waved her hand in front of his eyes, trying to get him to wake up.

"Hello?" she asked. "Johnny, can you hear me?"

Johnny took Lilly's hand and forced it back into her lap.

"I can hear ya," he said. "But I ain't shocked. The only thing _I'm _shocked about is that they let you inside the place. I kinda figured somethin' was up a few weeks ago when they stopped lettin' Sadie come upstairs after we'd hang out with Elenore, but now that I know …"

"What do you know?"

"It's kinda surprising they'd let you in when they turned Sadie away before they even got to the stairs in the store. What did you say to get 'em to let ya in?"

"Well, like I said, it was kinda late. Lucy was a little off her game. She was in her underwear."

"Lucy answered the door in her underwear?"

"It's stunning how much that's not the point."

"Still."

"Johnny. Don't do this to me, man. What do you know?"

It was Johnny's turn to sigh. It felt like he'd been carrying the secret around for decades, when in fact, it had only been a few days. It was too hard to keep things from Sadie. He wondered if he could trust Lilly not to say anything to her. After all, Lilly was a notorious gossip in the neighborhood. Of course, in order for Lilly to reach maximum gossip potential, she had to be teamed up with Katie Mathews, and if the two of them were on the outs for the time being, maybe Johnny could entrust his little sister with the most delicate secret he'd ever had (that wasn't his to entrust anyone with, but that wouldn't occur to him until much, much later).

"OK, all right," Johnny finally gave in. "I'll tell ya. Lucy and Dally ain't movin' on no 'August 1,' like they been tellin' us. They're movin' on May 16."

Lilly let out a tiny gasp.

"But that's …" she started, but Johnny finished it for her.

"The day after Darry and Lynnie's wedding," he said. "Yep. Damn right."

"I just don't get it. Why wouldn't they tell us?"

"I heard 'em talkin' in the store when they didn't know I was there. Long story. But they were talkin' about it, pure and simple. Apparently, they're keepin' it a secret 'cause Lucy's too scared to say goodbye to Sadie."

Lilly snorted.

"Well, how does Lucy think Sadie's gonna react when she's just up and gone?" she asked. "Does she think that'll make it better?"

"I don't know what she thinks," Johnny said. "But it ain't our job to question it. It's our job to respect 'em and pretend like we don't know a damn thing."

"But we _do_, and we know it's stupid as shit."

"Lilly."

Lilly rolled her eyes. She hated it when Johnny was right. She wanted to be right all the time, but lately, it seemed like more and more of her decisions were foolish. For a moment, she felt a pang of regret. She hoped the baby didn't hear her say that – if you could call it a baby yet, that was.

"Fine," she said. "I won't force it. But …"

"What?" Johnny asked.

"I don't know. It's stupid. I'm stupid."

"You ain't, and I'm sure your thing ain't, either. C'mon, Lilly. What's the matter? Ya know you can talk to me."

Lilly sighed. She felt so much like a little girl, and it was the last thing she wanted. Katie had been right the day before behind Jay's. Now that Lilly was going to be a mother, she had to start acting more like an adult. She owed it to this baby to allow it to be a baby. So, why did she still feel like one? Why hadn't she grown up the minute she found out the truth? Why did she suddenly want to be fourteen years old, lying on her flat, empty stomach, flipping through _Photoplay _on the Mathewses' living room floor like nothing could touch her?

She knew why.

"I don't know, man," Lilly finally said. "I guess there's a part of me that kinda gets why Lucy wouldn't wanna tell us the real date she's movin' to New York. I guess … I dunno. I guess there's a part-a me that's scared she's gonna forget about us once she's over there. I mean, she's been around for almost ten fuckin' years. Without her there to help me out, I'd have gotten pregnant _years _ago."

Johnny tried to smile, but he knew exactly what Lilly meant. He had the same fears about losing Dally to the East. Where Lucy had been there to save Lilly's skin from a bad reputation or becoming a mother before she scored a high school diploma, Dally had been there to save Johnny from jail time over and over. For as much as he knew the rest of the gang loved him, Dally was the only one who could look at Johnny and see him for what he was: a kid just as angry as the rest of them, who wanted to pound the people who gave him hell into the dirt, but didn't because he knew what he could lose. Everybody else thought Johnny was too sweet to do anything dirty – to even hurt a fly. Even Sadie thought that about him, and she knew him better than anybody. But Dally didn't see a frightened little boy when he looked at Johnny. He saw an angry young man who needed somebody to check him every now and again. What would Johnny do once Dally was all the way on the wrong coast? What would he do with a bunch of loving folks who didn't see him in quite the same (or quite the right) way? What would he do without Dally?

He kicked himself for having been so wrapped up in his own life to forget that once, the two of them had been closer than close.

"Look, Lucy and Dally," he said, more to himself than to Lilly, "they ain't just gonna forget us once they move. They can't. I think we mean too much to 'em. I mean, look at Dally when he was just a kid. Left this place for New York for three whole years, but he came back. Don't ya think they'll do the same thing now?"

"I don't know! They're so weird!"

That made Johnny laugh.

"I know what ya mean," he said. "But you ain't gotta worry. They'll be here for us. Even if they gotta be _there _for us. It don't make a difference."

"I wish I wasn't so upset about this," Lilly said. "I guess … I don't know. With everything changin' and all that, I guess it'd help to have all of us together."

"It would. But c'mon. When it's like this, we're always kinda all together. Ya know?"

Lilly nodded. In that moment, all she wanted to do was apologize to Katie and Blossom and tell Katie what she knew about Lucy and Dally's real moving date. Maybe she would have, too, if Sadie hadn't walked through the front door.

"Hey, you two," she said. "Are you in the middle of somethin'?"

In that moment, Lilly wanted to fall through the floor. She knew she needed to act more mature. After all, she was going to become a mother before she knew it. But maybe it was her awareness of impending motherhood that reminded her of the young girl she'd always been – loud, giggly, and incapable of keeping a secret. As soon as she and Sadie made eye contact, Lilly let her eyes open wide.

"Um," Lilly said. "No. But I gotta go."

Sadie furrowed her brow.

"Lilly?" she asked. "What's the matter?"

"Pregnant. And, ya know … sometimes pregnant women gotta pee."

She made her way for the front door.

"But the bathroom is in the back of the house," Sadie said.

"Not that bathroom!"

And then she was gone. Confused, Sadie walked up to Johnny, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him like they'd been apart for days.

"Did you know your sister was nutty when you let her move in with us?" she asked.

"Sure did," Johnny said. "You did, too, 's a matter of fact."

"Hmm, maybe I did."

She looked around the room.

"Is Michael sleeping?" she asked.

Johnny nodded.

"He won't be crying for us to get him up for another hour, I'd say."

"And you think Lilly will be gone awhile?"

"Hard to say, but yeah."

"Perfect."

She pulled him even closer and kissed him more deeply than she had moments before. While he initially accepted the kiss, he backed off for a minute when he remembered that it was still the middle of the day, and Lilly could, theoretically, walk back in the house at any moment.

"What's the matter?" Sadie asked. "We're gonna be alone for a little while, aren't we?"

"Probably," Johnny said. "I just don't want Lilly to walk in and see stuff she don't wanna see."

"Oh … well, we got a bedroom, don't we?"

"What if we wake Michael up?"

"We won't! Besides, if we're tryin' to give him a friend to play with, we're gonna need to take every chance we can get."

Johnny blushed. It was really something, how Sadie could still get him to do that.

"C'mon, Sadie," he said. "You don't think we really gotta try that many more times, do ya? We've tried, like, five or six times by now."

Sadie snorted with amusement.

"You think five or six times is enough to knock a woman up?" Sadie asked. "Do you know how stubborn a woman's body can be? It's important to me that you do."

"Aww, man, I know," Johnny said. "And it ain't like I don't wanna. But tonight – when we know Michael's asleep, and Lilly ain't gonna walk in."

Sadie kissed Johnny one more time and agreed. She wandered over to the couch and sat, patting the cushion next to her for Johnny to sit, too.

"It's probably a good thing," she said. "Probably hell to try and conceive after the day at work I just had."

"What happened?"

"Ugh, it was just a nuisance. One of our students is moving to San Francisco with her family for the upcoming school year, and it's just been a needless hassle of moving her permanent file, finding things that are missing, winding up with things that ain't hers … it's like the nightmare's never gonna end. And we've got a new kid from another district who needs an individualized lesson plan, and it's up to me to find a room for the meeting, but nobody's fuckin' budging. This is why ya don't move!"

Sadie sighed and looked out the window. She wanted to leave and run back toward the school, but she wasn't so sure she wanted to be the secretary when she returned. On her way out of work that day, she'd walked past a group of girls from their neighborhood, talking and laughing in the way she and Lucy and Jane used to. Although she'd known it for a long time, the sight of those girls on the front lawn made her surer than ever. They would never go back there again.

"I guess I'm just lookin' for a distraction," Sadie said.

"From what?" Johnny asked. "From me?"

Sadie laughed.

"No, not from you, silly. From everything else that's going on. From Lucy taking a big part of all our lives and moving it to another side of the country. From Darry getting married and changing Mom and Dad's house."

"What do you mean? Ain't it been changed since you were fifteen?"

Sadie shook her head.

"No," she said. "After the accident, it still felt like our house. Emptier, maybe, but it was still our house. Then I moved out, but it still felt like I could go home again, ya know? 'Cause it was just my three brothers. And then Soda shipped out, and Jane moved in. Now Lynnie and Jimmy. It's hard enough knowing things are different over there, but to know that we aren't gonna be able to see Lucy everyday. That just makes it worse."

Johnny took Sadie's hand and squeezed it tightly. A year or two earlier, he might have felt insecure, like his wife cared more about her friends and brothers more than she cared about him. But that was before. He knew better now. The longer he spent married to Sadie Curtis, the more he realized the truth about her: She'd married him because he was Johnny Cade, not because he happened to be around.

"I don't want you to think I just want another baby to distract myself once Lucy's out of here," Sadie said. "We talked about it before – havin' our kids two or three years apart. Michael will be two when this kid gets here, probably. But … I don't know, I guess the more I focus on havin' another the baby, the less I gotta focus on the fact that my best friend's leavin'. I know that don't sound much better, but …"

Johnny squeezed Sadie's hand again.

"I understand you," he said. "Even if nobody else ever does, I understand you."

Sadie tried to smile, but she was too tired.

"I guess there's still plenty to be glad about," she said. "We're gonna have another baby, and that's gonna be as wonderful as when it was Michael. But Lucy won't be there to see me have the baby, and that … well, I know everyone else will be there, but it'll just feel different. When a woman has a baby, she needs her husband. She needs her family. But dammit, doesn't she need her best friend, too?"

Johnny nodded.

"You'll always have her," he said. "And you never know. Dependin' on what she's doin' when the new baby's ready to come out, Lucy could rush on over here to see us. That ain't outta character for her, especially when it comes to you."

Sadie sighed. She squeezed Johnny's hand right back.

"Yeah," she said. "I guess I'm just glad the next couple of months here are ours. I couldn't bear to lose her any sooner than that."

In that moment, Johnny wanted to tell Sadie the truth. He wanted to tell her that she was going to lose Lucy in less than two weeks. He wanted to tell her to enjoy Darry's wedding because that was the last time she'd be living it up with Lucy Bennet, resident of Oklahoma. But he saw the look on her face. He saw that she was happy thinking about one last summer where she could slip out the backdoor and go down to Jay's with Lucy for an hour or two so they could pretend like they were still just kids. He didn't want to take it away from her, just like he didn't want to let Lucy off the hook for keeping it a secret for so long. He kissed Sadie's cheek.

"I love you," he said.

And that was that.

* * *

Ponyboy and Carrie sat on the floor of the Curtis family's living room, each reading their first book of the summer. For Pony, it was _The Moviegoer_; for Carrie, _Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?_ The radio was bleating out something innocuous in the background. Pony looked over at Carrie's pages and squinted.

"What's goin' on in yours?" he asked.

"Androids are getting killed," Carrie said. "It's exciting, actually. Could be a movie if it wanted to be."

"Maybe we should switch, then. I always liked movies better than you."

"Better than you like me, or better than you like movies?"

"Don't make me answer that."

Carrie laughed. She turned her attention to the radio. "Sugar, Sugar," that song by The Archies, had started up. She rolled her eyes.

"I can't believe it," she said. "I can't believe one of the most popular songs of the last year is by a fake band of comic book characters."

"Worst of all, it's catchy," a new voice joined in the conversation from the back of the house. Pony and Carrie turned around to find Soda walking into the living room from his bedroom.

"You like this song?" Pony asked. "Never thought I'd see the day my tuff older brother gave up his tuffness for The Archies."

"I didn't say I liked it," he said and took a seat – _his seat _– on the family couch. "I said it was catchy. You can't even tell me I'm wrong. Hey, Carrie?"

"Yeah?"

"How many words of this song do ya know?"

"Oh, all of them."

"Thought so."

Ponyboy sat up and looked quizzically at Soda.

"What're you doin' here, anyway?" he asked. "It's almost five. Shouldn't you be pullin' the night shift at the DX right about now?"

Soda shook his head.

"Woke up not feeling too good," he said. "Called Steve and asked him if he'd cover, and he said he would. He understood."

Ponyboy nodded, but Soda knew he didn't really understand. Only Steve and Two-Bit would have gotten it. He hadn't even needed to tell Steve what was going on when he said he was feeling sick. Steve knew. The two of them hadn't talked very much about the war, and they certainly couldn't talk exactly as they used to. But they were still Steve and Soda. They could carry on.

"Well, 's good to have you around for the night," Ponyboy said. "Darry and Lynnie are takin' Jimmy to a friend's house so they can go out for dinner tonight. He's been savin' up awhile."

"Yeah, I thought I heard him say somethin' like that. What's the matter, Pony? You ain't tryin' to tell me now that you're a big college guy, ya need a babysitter, are ya?"

Ponyboy waved his hand in front of Soda with playful dismissal. Soda laughed.

"Aww, cut it out, man," he said. "You know I ain't no baby. Just thought it'd be nice to have some time with you, that's all."

Soda smiled. Pony could always make him smile, even if his mind was far away.

"Nice to see you, too, man," Soda said. "Hey, Carrie, you stickin' around here tonight, too?"

"I was planning on it," Carrie said. "The alternative is to go back home and … well, I don't really like being in that house, as you might suspect."

Soda nodded, and his heart clenched with sympathy in the way it would have before the war. Poor little Carrie Shepard. She'd always been the lost sheep of her family, and now, she was wandering more than ever. Carrie had always been a sweet kid – smart, responsible, and always concerned with doing the right thing. As a kid, she'd been so quiet about herself and her success that when she told her eldest brother, Tim, that she'd gotten a full scholarship to the University of Tulsa, which she'd be taking, he was shocked.

Carrie lived alone in that house now. It was easier to sleep in, but in the middle of the day … that was when she remembered how quiet it was.

"Well, it's good we got you here," Soda said. "Thought we could go down to Jay's and see Jane. It's Thursday, and on Thursday, she sneaks us free fries."

"I thought you said you weren't feelin' too good," Ponyboy said.

Soda shrugged.

"It ain't that kind of no good," he said. "It's the kind of no good where I gotta get out. You remember."

Ponyboy nodded. He thought back to the time after Sandy left Soda when they were all just kids. That had been the last straw for Soda. After losing their parents, losing Sandy, and Ponyboy and Darry picking constant fights with one another, he just needed to get out. Ponyboy couldn't even imagine how badly he must have wanted to get out of his head now. He'd seen glimpses of the war on television, and that was more than enough.

"We could get ready to go now," Carrie said. "I don't know about the two of you, but I could stand to eat."

"I could sit to eat, but that's 'cause I'm a little less weird than you," Ponyboy joked.

"You _wish _you were as weird as I am," Carrie said. The three of them made their way to the door.

"Carrie, I hate to burst that pretty little bubble of yours," Soda said as he absentmindedly opened the door, "but Pony's always gonna be the weirdest of …"

He stopped dead when he realized there was someone already on the front porch. His heart stopped, too, when he saw who it was standing in front of him.

"Sadie," he said. His voice was quiet – almost scared.

"Soda," she said, almost surprised to see him there, even after a year, even after knowing he would be there. "I would have knocked, but …"

"Guess this was a little too well timed," he said. "How … what're you doin' here?"

"Same thing it's always been. I left Michael at home with Johnny for a little while 'cause I needed to go for a walk …"

Soda blinked in recognition. Sometimes, Sadie needed to get out, too. He'd almost forgotten they were more alike than they weren't. He wondered if she'd figured that out yet.

"And you ended up here," he finished for her.

She nodded. It felt great. It had been so long since Soda could hear what she was thinking, and in that moment, she could feel his eyes in her mind. It was the most natural things had been since … well, since Elenore was born, once Sadie thought about it.

"We were goin' down to Jay's to see Jane," Ponyboy said. "Now that you're here, you could come with us."

"Yeah, Sadie," Carrie agreed. "It's been too long since we spent much time together. Ya know, as a …"

Ponyboy looked at Carrie with a smirk on his face. She blushed and tucked her long hair behind her ears.

"A group," she finally said.

Soda didn't turn around when he answered Pony and Carrie.

"Naw," he said. "You guys go on. I'll catch up."

"But Jane's gonna miss you," Ponyboy said. "You're the one who's married to her, after all."

"I know that, and so does she," Soda said. "That's why she'll understand."

"What do you…?"

"You know what I mean. You an' Carrie go. I'll catch up with ya, maybe."

"Maybe?"

"Pony."

So, Ponyboy took Carrie's hand, and they slipped past Sadie and Soda, who appeared not to have blinked since Soda opened the door.

They stood like that for a minute or two more, not blinking, barely breathing, not saying a word. Soda couldn't believe it. He'd almost forgotten that Sadie had freckles on her nose.

"You know, you don't gotta stand out there," Soda said. "This is your house, too. You can come in."

Sadie exhaled slowly. She wanted to ask Soda if he was sure this was her house, too, but she didn't. She knew he was right. She wondered if he remembered how much she loved early May weather. She loved it when it was turning summer – ever since they were little. She used to swear to him that she could smell lightning bugs. Even though Darry never believed her, Soda always did. It was his job. At least, it used to be.

"Don't just stand there," Soda said. "Come in. You're makin' me nervous."

Sadie sighed one more time and walked through the front door. She was amazed by how much it didn't feel like home. She wondered when the last time was that she felt that the Curtis house was home, and then she remembered. She remembered The Velvet Underground and Soda's thick hair. That was it. That was when.

She took a seat – _her seat _– on the couch, and Soda followed suit.

"I don't know why it still feels like a surprise runnin' into you," Sadie said. "You've been back here for a year already. It's not like I'm seein' a ghost."

"You're right," Soda said. "It ain't. But it's always a surprise to see you, too."

"Why do you think that is?"

"Sadie …"

"No, stop. However you were planning to … pander to me or to escape my questions, stop. Just nip it in the bud, wherever the bud is."

Soda bit down on his tongue hard. He wasn't sure what he had been about to say before Sadie snapped at him, but he knew one thing now: This was not the sister he'd left behind when he was nineteen.

"I don't even remember the last time we talked," Sadie said.

"We talked the other …"

"No, I mean the last time we _really _talked. We wrote letters when you were in Vietnam, and we've had a few exchanges since you've been back. But things are not the same."

"How could they be the same? You're married, and you got a baby. I fought in a fuckin' war, and I got a wife to take care of now. We ain't the kids we were two years ago. I thought you knew that."

"Of course I know that! I know that better than anybody! I also know that we're not kids anymore, but that's how you seem to think of us."

Soda looked down at his hands. He knew Sadie was right. Everybody knew the truth about Soda after he came back from the war. Everyone was off getting married, having babies, and earning their college degrees. Even Steve was getting serious with a girl (who may or may not have been Evie, but Soda was too afraid to ask). But even though Soda was married, everyone knew the truth. He'd stopped aging at nineteen – maybe even earlier than that. He'd just looked so pretty with a smile on his face that no one really took the time to get scared about it.

But he couldn't hide from his own reflection.

She took his hand, and he looked up at her, seeing his own eyes in a different person and being both comforted and horrified that they were there.

"Soda," Sadie said, and her voice was steady … motherly. "I want you to know that whatever it is, you can talk to me. The way you used to."

All Soda wanted was to believe Sadie, but he couldn't. He'd seen too much, and she hadn't seen the same things. For as much as he would have loved to transfer his memories of the war onto Sadie so that she could understand what it was really like to be him and to live through those memories day in and day out, he knew he never would.

"Sadie," he finally said. "You don't get it. Nowadays, when me and you run into each other … it's like I wanna tell you everything, but as soon as I try, I can't. It's like I forget what words are."

"But why? We're twins. We've always been able to talk to each other. We've been able to talk to each other without words for longer than I can remember. We can't do that anymore. And all I wanna know is _why_. What changed? What changed so that I can't hear you when you're quiet anymore?"

"You _know _what changed."

"No, I don't. And I'm not stupid, Soda. I knew you'd be different when you got back from Vietnam. I knew you'd be _really _different after I found out you got shot, and you could have died if they didn't get you medical attention in time. I knew all of that, and when I got to see you in the hospital for the first time, I was prepared. But then, as soon as I saw you … and your eyes were far away, barely even looking at me or Darry or anybody … well, then, I wasn't prepared anymore."

"That ain't my fault."

"I know it's not. I know it. I really do. I guess … I dunno. I guess I just thought that even though I knew you were gonna be different after the war, I thought I'd be able to grow up and be different right next to you – same as it always was."

Soda bit his tongue. He didn't want to cry in front of Sadie. Maybe, two years earlier, he would have broken down and sobbed like a baby. He knew he would have. But that wasn't a luxury he had anymore. He had to stay strong. He wasn't sure who he was staying strong for – just that he knew he needed to.

"I don't know what happened to us," Sadie said, almost in tears and embarrassed of the fact. She hated this new version of Soda who went out of his way to avoid tears. She missed her bawl baby twin brother. "I just know that one day, I knew how the fuck to talk to you, and the next, it was like looking in a fun house mirror. Everything just always comes out so wrong, and I don't know how to make it better."

"Maybe you should stop tryin' so hard," Soda said, and he was well aware of how rude he sounded. He needed to be rude. Something deep inside of him told him that it would be OK to push Sadie. She would never leave him alone, after all. They were twins, and she loved him too much.

She narrowed her eyes at him.

"What did you say?" she asked.

"I said maybe you should stop tryin' so hard. Things ain't the way they were, Sadie Lou. I don't know how to make 'em that way, and neither do you."

"But I'm not _trying _to make them that way. I'm trying to talk to you – here, now, about what's going on here and _now_. You won't let me, and I don't get it."

Soda paused. He didn't understand it, either. Part of him knew that the minute he opened back up to Sadie again was the minute he'd realize what they had before was irreparable. He couldn't be Sadie's twin in the same way he used to be. He didn't know how to move on with someone who hadn't been able to move on with him. He didn't know how to be a soldier looking at a mother. He wasn't prepared.

"I don't get it," Sadie said again, throwing her hands behind her neck. "I don't fuckin' get it. And everybody's keeping something from me."

"What are you talking about, Sadie Lou?"

Sadie shook her head.

"See, that's what I mean," she said. "I don't know. I don't fucking know. I just know it's true. Everyone's hiding something from me, and I can't sniff it out. You're hiding something. Johnny's hiding something. Hell, I've had this feeling for _weeks _that Lucy's hiding something, but I can't figure out what it is. Why isn't anyone talking to me anymore? Why isn't anyone being real with me? Why do I feel like a guest in this stupid fucking house?"

Her eyes went wide. She hadn't meant to say that. This wasn't a stupid fucking house. It was her home. It had always been her home – the place where she felt drawn to even when she meant to wander around aimlessly while Johnny stayed home with Michael. Why had she called it a stupid fucking house? That wasn't what you called something that meant the world to you. It was what Dally called his vest – the one had to wear at the grocery store to bring home the bread and the bacon to Lucy and Elenore. It wasn't what Sadie called her parents' house. She wondered what they thought of her now.

Soda wanted to reach out and stroke the side of his sister's face like he used to when they were just kids, but he didn't. He couldn't. He thought that if he tried to touch Sadie with love and comfort, he would just find himself cut and bleeding on a jagged edge.

"Soda," Sadie said with a small, small voice. "Please. I know you're keeping something from me. Why won't you tell me?"

He wanted to tell her. He wanted to tell her that he'd almost died on the day Michael was born. He wanted to tell her that as he was rushing into that great death, he'd seen their mother, just like he dreamt he would on the night before he shipped out. But he didn't. He didn't want her to think that he was insane – hearing voices and seeing bodies where they could no longer belong.

And then, he froze. When did that happen? When did he become the kind of twin brother who feared that his twin sister would think he was insane? He knew that Sadie would understand him. She always had. So, why did it feel so wrong now? Why did it feel like no matter how close the twins sat on the family couch, they would never reach out and touch one another?

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't make himself tell Sadie the truth. And it ate him up inside.

"Sadie Lou," he said. "I wish I could tell you."

"Then do it," Sadie demanded.

"I …"

Before he could even think about finishing his thought, Sadie stood up. Her hands were still firmly planted on the back of her neck. She looked like she was going to be sick. She _felt _like she was going to be sick. Instead of vomiting or bursting into the tears she wanted so badly to burst into, she swallowed her spit hard and looked away from the reflection she didn't recognize.

"It doesn't matter," Sadie said. "I know it doesn't matter."

"That ain't true, and you fuckin' know it," Soda said. He was getting angrier by the second.

"Maybe so. I don't know. I don't fuckin' know anything anymore, Soda. You gonna help me out with that, or am I just gonna have to twist in the fuckin' wind like an asshole?"

Soda said nothing. He wished he could remember what it was like to be gregarious, but that was what unchecked near-death experiences did to you, he figured. They made it hard to remember a time when you never thought about mortality.

Soda remembered being a teenager when his parents were killed in that accident on their way home from out in the country. He remembered how often Darry talked about death and dying and finances and wills in that time. He remembered how he would encourage Ponyboy to do well in school so that he could go off to college and have fun and exciting experiences because you never knew how much time you had to be alive and experience things. He remembered how Sadie would sleep with her Bible real close to her during the night because she wanted to be remind of how Mom and Dad were with Jesus. And he remembered how Ponyboy would talk to their pictures in the old photo albums like they were still in the room with the kids. He remembered all of it. He also remembered how he didn't seem to understand the gravity. He didn't seem to understand what it meant that they were gone.

Oh, Soda was real sad about it and everything. He cried and cried right alongside his brothers and his twin sister. But it wasn't the same for him. He hadn't felt the need to sleep beside a Bible or soak up every inch of existence because he already soaked up every inch of existence. He always had. It didn't make a difference to him that life was short because somewhere down inside of him, Soda always knew that. It was maybe the one thing he knew better than the three of his siblings. But now that he had touched death (again, better than the three of his siblings), he didn't know what to do with himself. So he did nothing at all.

"Soda?" Sadie asked. Her voice was equal parts hopeful and irritated.

But Soda didn't say anything. Nothing was right.

Sadie shook her head and went toward the door.

"I don't know what the fuck I expect to get out of these conversations anymore," she muttered to herself, but Soda heard her. "It's not like they're even fucking conversations. Just me babblin' like an idiot in some fuckin' melodrama, well, I'll fuckin' …"

"Can you smell them?"

With her hand on the doorknob, Sadie stopped and turned around. Her heart was beating so loudly that she could barely even hear herself speak.

"What?" she asked.

"The lightning bugs," Soda said. "It's that time of year. Can you smell them?"

Sadie blinked back tears and nodded. She couldn't make herself speak.

Soda nodded right back.

"That's what I thought," he said. "I still can't smell 'em myself."

"You'll learn," Sadie croaked.

"You'll teach me?"

But Sadie shook her head. Soda didn't panic. This time, Sadie was smiling.

"Not a chance," she said.

And before either twin could say goodbye, Sadie Lou was gone.

* * *

Two-Bit sat in a booth at Jay's all by himself – just him, a chocolate shake (which he hadn't slipped anything extra into, nor had he tipped Jane to do it for him in the kitchen when her boss's head was turned), a tiny little notebook, and a pencil. He was focusing hard, but nothing came out right. He probably shouldn't have skipped all those writing classes back in high school. And to think, he'd taken that stupid eleventh-grade composition class three times. The only thing he had to show from it was a bump on his pinky from the way he used to grip his pencil for essays. No matter how old he got and no matter how hard he tried to forget high school, it wouldn't go away.

Jane walked up to him at his booth and drummed her nails on the table.

"You sure I can't get ya anything to eat, man?" she asked. "You been here awhile. You gotta be hungry by now."

But Two-Bit just shook his head.

"No, thanks, Janie," he said. "This is business."

He took a sip of his shake.

"It's shake business," he added. "What're you so worried about, anyway? You're gonna get a hell of a tip. You're my friend, and I love ya."

"It ain't that," Jane said. "I'm worried about you. You've been in here since my shift started, and you haven't eaten anything. It's gotta be wreckin' your concentration, don't ya think?"

"I think it's a good way to get grease on what I'm writin', and I wanna be able to read it later."

"Well, what're you writin', anyhow? Dependin' on what it is, I'm sure you could get Lucy to help you. She kinda writes for a livin', ya know."

Two-Bit shook his head again. This wasn't something he could get Lucy's advice about. Hell, for as long as she'd been a married broad, this still wasn't a genre she had much experience in. Two-Bit was trying to draft the perfect proposal for his girl, Laura Lubbock. Everyday, Darry and Lynnie's wedding got closer, which meant that everyday, his proposal to Laura got closer, too. He wanted to be prepared. He wanted to give her the kind of classical proposal that a girl like her deserved. The only problem was that he was Two-Bit Mathews, and in his neck of the woods, proposals usually sounded a lot like, "Well, baby, I wanna do the right thing."

"Lucy wouldn't be much help," he said.

"Oh," Jane said. "Well, then, who would be?"

In that moment, the door swung open. Out of human habit, Two-Bit looked up and toward the door, and his heart dropped when he saw the person walking in. It was Lilly Cade. He ran his hand through his hair as though he wanted to impress her, then wondered why he was doing that. Why was he doing that? He'd turned her down years ago. She'd gotten over him, surely. It was just a habit – a silly, nervous habit. It couldn't have been anything more. He loved Laura. He loved Laura, and Lilly … well, she'd always be Lilly, and Two-Bit was going to have to live with that.

He turned back to Jane and shrugged, and she followed suit.

"Well," she said. "Lemme know if I can help. Or at least sneak you some fries. I can usually get away with that on Thursdays. It's why Carrie and Pony came down here."

She moved to the side to show Two-Bit where Carrie and Ponyboy were sitting. They made eye contact with him and waved like the kids they'd always be (in Two-Bit's eyes, anyway). He waved back, hoping they wouldn't come into the booth and bother him.

"I'll let ya know," he said.

As Jane walked away, Lilly took her place at the booth. Before he could say anything, she narrowed her eyes.

"You gotta get up," she said.

"What?" Two-Bit asked, guarding his papers like he'd never guarded anything before.

"You heard me. You gotta get up. As in, you gotta move to another table."

"But Jane sat me at this one."

"Too bad. This is my favorite table. Jane fuckin' knows that. Ask her."

"You can't just barge in and demand to be seated at a table that somebody else is sittin' at. Gee, Lilly, were you raised in a barn?"

"No, but you were."

"You're right. My old man was a goat. We called him Horatio."

"Where the fuck did you get the name _Horatio_?"

"It was my old man's name. The goat. Did you not just hear this?"

Lilly rolled her eyes. Maybe it was the pregnancy hormones (Was that a real thing, or was it just a myth that men came up with to explain their annoyance with their wives?) making her impatient with someone she'd always been impatient with, but she indignantly plopped herself down on the other side of the booth and slid in.

"What the hell?" Two-Bit asked. "This ain't your booth, sister!"

"I ain't your sister, and you should be happy about that. Plus, I told ya. I like this booth. I won't sit anywhere else, even if it means I gotta split it with you."

"That's not how restaurants work."

"Fuckin' try me. And since when do you care about the rules? That middle-class broad of yours teachin' ya how to be nice?"

Two-Bit turned red with embarrassment and anger all the same. As much as he wanted to yell at Lilly to leave him the hell alone while he worked on the perfect proposal for a woman who wasn't her, he couldn't make himself do it. She was still Lilly. She was still Lilly, and for as long as they both lived, that was going to mean something to him.

"I fuckin' thought so," she said.

"What crawled into your ass and died?" Two-Bit asked.

Lilly snorted.

"Wasn't my ass," she said.

"What?"

"Never mind. You wouldn't get it."

Two-Bit sat across from Lilly, perplexed. This wasn't the bright and smiling girl he was used to seeing everyday. She hadn't been that girl for awhile, but after he started seeing Laura, it was easier to forget how different Lilly had become since he returned home from the war. It was easy to forget his guilt at the possibility that he'd done it to her. But when she sat across from him that night, pushy and indignant as hell, he wasn't sure that he could put her off anymore. He had to remember that Lilly Cade existed. He had to remember that she had a part in this, whatever it was.

"What're you doin' here, anyway?" he asked. "You don't work tonight."

"Good spottin'," she said. "We should get you a badge."

"You know what I mean."

"I don't think I do. Are you trying to say that I'm not allowed to leave the house unless I'm off to make money?"

"No, I'm just tryin' to make conversation with ya, Lilly Pad."

"Well, it didn't used to be this hard."

Two-Bit swallowed hard. Lilly was right. When the two of them talked before, it had always been easy. Lilly had grown up in the Mathews home, and she'd always been able to look at Two-Bit like an equal, despite the fact that he was three years her senior. They'd always been like breathing together. And then … nothing. For the past two years, any time Lilly and Two-Bit spoke to one another, it was like choking.

"Maybe not." It was all Two-Bit knew how to say.

"Are you gonna tell me what you been sittin' here writin'?" Lilly asked.

Two-Bit turned bright pink and guarded his papers even closer than when Jane had been standing over him.

"No," he said, trying to keep his cool and knowing just how miserably he must have been failing. "It's none of your business."

"Damn," Lilly said. "None of my business. When did ya lose your sense of humor, man?"

"I ain't lost nothin'," Two-Bit said. "Especially not my sense of humor. I can be funny right now."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah!"

"Prove it to me, then."

"You can't be funny on the spot!"

"Well, then, explain Lenny Bruce. Explain Nichols and May."

"Why is everyone you're listing so _old_?"

"I don't know! I'm just talking!"

Two-Bit backed off. He found himself almost smiling at Lilly. He knew it would have been taunting and terrible to say it, but there was a part of him that secretly loved it when she became annoyed. Specifically, he loved it when he was the one who was able to get her there. There was this adorable fire behind her eyes. He never tired of seeing it.

What was he _talking _about? He looked down at the papers in between his sweaty palms. _Laura_. He was there to write the perfect preamble to a proposal for Laura. She was the one he loved. He couldn't imagine loving anyone in the world apart from Laura.

"You're really not gonna tell me what you've been writing?" Lilly asked.

The tone of her voice surprised Two-Bit just a little bit. Even when she wasn't pissed at him for no reason, he could tell that she still loved him. It was the kind of love that made Two-Bit almost want to tear up that perfect proposal for Laura. Almost. But he never would. He'd made it perfectly clear to Lilly that she had to move on, and he wasn't going to rip her heart out more than he already had.

"Sorry, sis," he said with some regret on his tongue. "This is between me and the Lord."

"Are you serious?"

"Hardly ever."

"So, you're not serious."

"Lilly …"

She leaned forward and propped her elbows on the booth, almost like she was lunging toward him. Two-Bit's heart leapt into his throat. He'd forgotten that for as sweet as she was, Lilly Cade was a little terrifying.

"I'll tell ya what," she said, not blinking, not tearing her eyes away from the man across from her. "I'll tell _you _a secret that I promised I wouldn't tell anybody. And if it impresses you enough, you gotta tell me what you been writin'."

"How is that a fair game?"

"It's totally fair. We'll call it … _Jaw Droppers_."

"And you think that's clever?"

"Oh, yeah."

They smiled at each other the way they used to … before Two-Bit had the funny beaten out of him.

He leaned forward so that he was directly facing Lilly. She didn't want to, but she turned bright pink, too. There was something about Two-Bit that would always do that to her.

"Go on," Two-Bit said, not blinking, not tearing his eyes away from the woman across from him. "I'm waitin'."

Lilly paused for a moment. There were two things she could have done. She could have told him her truth – about how she was pregnant by some guy whose name she didn't even remember, how she was moving in with Sadie and Johnny, how she was scared because she never stopped loving him and thought it was shitty that this baby (whom she already loved) was going to be hers but not his. She could have told him all of that. Certainly, his jaw would have dropped. But she also could have told him about Lucy and Dally – about how they were hiding the truth from everyone they said (nay, _implied_) that they loved. She could have done the right thing, so, in that moment, she did.

"Lucy and Dally are lyin' about the day they're movin'," Lilly blurted. "They told us all they're leavin' on August 1, but that's a lie. They're really leavin' on the day after Darry's wedding, and they weren't gonna tell anybody. They were just gonna leave."

And even though the first secret would have rendered even Two-Bit Mathews speechless, Lilly should have known that this was the secret that would make him almost cry.

* * *

When Esther Bennet answered the door for her daughter's family that evening for dinner, she frowned at the sight of Elenore Winston in her fluffy blue dress.

"Lucy," Esther said. "What is your daughter wearing?"

"A dress," Lucy said as she stepped inside the house.

"What made you think she had to wear that?"

"Well, we tried moving to a nudist colony, Mom, but we found it just didn't have enough structure."

Esther picked Elenore up and held her on her hip.

"I meant she doesn't have to dress up for us," Esther said. "We're just her grandparents, and we don't want her to associate being itchy and being with us."

She looked right at Elenore.

"Do you wanna take off this ridiculous dress your mother put you in and change into some of the play clothes that Grandpa and I keep over here for you?"

"Yeah," Elenore said, and Esther took her right upstairs.

Jack Bennet laughed at his wife's spunkiness – same as she'd had since they were just kids, too. He turned to Dally with a furrowed brow.

"You know, for as many times as you show up for dinner here," Jack said, "it always impresses me."

"Don't let his presence fool you," Lucy said. "He's here on selfish business. He thinks that once Mom and I start bickering about when Elenore should be allowed to drink Coca-Cola, and you get too distracted with doing up the dishes, he can sneak into your library and borrow your copy of _The Castle of Otranto_."

Jack looked at his son-in-law with light in his eyes.

"Really?" he asked.

"Well, don't look so surprised, man," Dally said. "I been stealin' books from you a long time."

"And he uses his memory to make sure he always puts it back in the same place," Lucy added. "He's got a photographic memory, you know."

"Dammit, Bennet. You're givin' away all my fuckin' secrets."

"I hate to break it to you, but I think my dad has always known your secrets. Haven't you, Dad?"

Jack nodded.

"The books always come back a little different," he said. "And by _different_, I mean they always come back smelling vaguely like the grocery store."

Dally shrugged. It was about all he could do in the face of Jack Bennet.

"Tell you what," Jack said. "You go into the library. Get a head start on _Otranto_ and take whatever else you'd like."

"You sure you want me thumbin' around your books?" Dally asked. "Ya know who I am?"

"Oh, I know who you are. And I'm giving you permission. Peruse my library, and I promise I won't tell anyone that you like books, nor will I tell anyone that you have an eidetic memory that would have put Einstein to shame."

"That may or may not be hyperbolic," Lucy added.

"It's not," Jack said.

"What he says goes, then."

"Not really sure what you guys are sayin', but I'm gonna take it as some good shit," Dally said (and lied, just a little bit). "I'll be back, Bennet."

"Which one of us are you talking to?" Jack asked.

"Aww, fuck, man. Don't do this to me."

Jack laughed, and Dally headed for Jack's books. In the meantime, Jack turned to Lucy.

"Now, how did I know this was all an elaborate ruse to get us together?" Lucy asked.

"Because I'm your father," Jack said, "and the only person who knows me better than you do is your mother. We knew you'd never tell me there was anything wrong …"

"Now …"

"And we certainly knew you'd be too intimidated to talk to her."

"I'm not intimidated by anybody."

"Hey, Esther."

Lucy flinched, and Jack laughed. She crossed her arms over her chest and narrowed her eyes at her father.

"That is not funny," she said.

"I don't know, Lucy," he said. "I'm laughing."

"Well, what did you want to talk about? I'm only vulnerable in half-hour increments, and you're eating into your time with all the small talk."

Jack smirked.

"Your mother could tell that you've been off," he said. "Even Lynnie said something about it last night. Do you think it's because you haven't told anybody the truth about when you're leaving yet?"

"Dad …"

"Lucy."

Lucy sighed.

"Of _course _it's because I haven't told the truth about when I'm leaving yet! And it's a lot more than that. It's … what if I can't find a friend in New York?"

"You don't need a friend in New York. You have more friends than you know what to do with here in Tulsa."

"But I won't live here anymore."

"You don't live in Detroit anymore, either, but you still pretend like that's home."

Lucy paused.

"I'm also … I don't know, I'm upset that I'm upset," she said. "When we got here, all I wanted to do was leave. Then I found Sadie and everybody else. Got married on a dare. Had Elenore. All of that was here in Tulsa, the place I was least excited to move to when we did."

"I remember," Jack said. "You cried like a baby when we pulled up to this house. Said you were terrified of developing the accent."

"And I still am," Lucy said. "But that's my own elitist problem."

"Well, as long as you recognize it, dear."

"I don't get it. I never wanted to live here. I still don't _love _to live here. The politics are red, the water is _not _blue …"

"The sugar isn't sweet, and neither are you?"

"That was cheap."

"But it was where you were going with it."

"Ugh, I'm too fucking tired to argue with you."

They were quiet for a moment, and then, Lucy spoke again.

"I guess what I'm really afraid of is that my story is over," Lucy said.

"What do you mean?" Jack asked.

"You know. It's like, all I can think about these days is getting out of here. I don't talk to my friends in the way I used to. I don't do anything exciting. All I do is pack my bags and keep a secret that I know I shouldn't even be keeping, but I'm too scared of seeing Sadie cry to do anything about it. I feel like I'm all wrapped up. Like I'm a zombie or something. I don't know."

Jack firmly planted his hands on Lucy's shoulders and looked into her eyes. He forgot how much she looked like him, but he'd forgotten how much she _really _looked like her mother.

"Listen to me, Lucy," he said. "Your story _is _over. But just the volume that takes place here in Tulsa."

Lucy was surprised by the stinging in her eyes.

"There's nothing left for you here anymore," Jack said. "Sure, you've got your mother and me, and you've got all of your friends. But we can move around. We can come to visit you, and you can come to visit us. That doesn't mean you have to stay here. You did what you needed to do. You got your husband. You got your daughter. You got your education, and you got that sweet, sweet acceptance into your Ph.D. program. You're going to do great things, Lucy. You've done great things. Those things happened in Tulsa. Those new things will happen somewhere else. And it's OK to move on."

The stinging in Lucy's eyes had turned to small tears running down her cheeks.

"Then why does this feel impossible?" she asked. Her voice made her throat burn.

"Because endings are sad, and beginnings are scary," Jack said. "I don't mean to be cliché, but it's cliché for a reason."

"I guess."

"It is. Think about it. Isn't it always a little scary when you go to open a book you've never read before because you're not sure if it's going to be good?"

"Yeah."

"And isn't it equally sad when you finish the book because it's over, and you have to move on again?"

"Well, yeah."

"It's the same thing with moving. This move's just harder than the others you had to make, and I know you know why."

Lucy sighed. All she could think about was Sadie.

"Your Tulsa story's over, but _your _story's not. And I know I must sound like an idiot to you, but it's true. There's plenty more left for you to write, kid. It's just not here."

Esther came back downstairs with Elenore, this time in more comfortable clothes. At the same time, Dally came back into the living room, _The Castle of Otranto _in hand.

"I'm gonna miss all the fuckin' books around here," Dally said. "But don't tell nobody I said that, man."

"Who are you _talking_ to?" Jack asked.

"I don't know. Just talkin'."

Lucy smiled at these people – the people she could count on when she couldn't count on anyone else. She looked at Elenore – the person who could count on _her_. Jack clapped his hand on her back.

"You can take some of it with you," he said. "But you gotta move on sometime."

Lucy nodded. For a moment, she felt motivated to tell Sadie the truth about exactly when she was going to move on. But then, all at once, she was scared again.

Last night, when Lilly came over in a panic, she'd seen all the boxes.

* * *

**And that's a new chapter! If you were waiting for it, sorry it took five weeks to write! I've been busy with jobs, classes, and so on. If you saw how much I have to grade on a weekly basis, you'd be stunned.**

**Hinton owns **_**The Outsiders**_**. I own this **_**Star Wars **_**sticker on my laptop. That's it, though. I don't own much else.**


	8. Chapter 8

"I'm cleaning out the dresser," Lucy said as she opened one of the drawers.

Dally came into their bedroom from the living room, where he sat on the couch, not even trying to hide the fact that he was reading the copy of _The Castle of Otranto _that Jack Bennet had let him borrow the day before.

"Why would you do that?" Dally asked. "Ain't it just comin' with us on that movin' van your parents paid for?"

"We're _still _not done thanking them for that, by the way," Lucy said. "And no. Even though the dresser is coming with us, we have to clean it out and empty it so stuff doesn't go flying in the back of the moving van. Don't you know that? You've moved before."

"Yeah, but I like to keep it light. Nothin' but the clothes on my back and the runnin' away from gettin' killed by my old man."

"I know."

"I'm such a light traveler, I left behind a whole human being."

Lucy shot him a look, and he backed off … but only for a moment. Before long, he was coming around to her backside, peering over her shoulder as she cleaned out the dresser they'd spent years throwing stuff into.

"There are birthday cards in this top drawer from when I was fifteen," Lucy said. "Why do I have nearly eight-year-old birthday cards? I'm a mother. My child will be eight herself before I know it."

"And then fifteen," Dally said.

"It's very important to me that you know there are many numbers between eight and fifteen. Seven of them, in fact."

"I know how to _subtract_."

"What's 373 minus 87?"

"I can't do that. You can't do that. Nobody can do that."

"Somewhere, in Cambridge, Massachusetts, somebody can do that."

"What the fuck's in Cambridge, Massachusetts?"

"How am I married to you?"

"Oh, you know how."

Lucy smirked and went back to cleaning out just the top drawer of their dresser. She found old tubes of lipstick and smiled as she lifted each one out of its hiding place.

"Aww!" she said. "This is the first tube of lipstick I found snuck into my locker back in the ninth grade. You were obsessed with me, weren't you?"

"I don't know what you're talkin' about," Dally said, though he did, in fact, know _exactly _what Lucy was talking about.

"Yes, you do. You're the one who used to swipe tubes of lipstick and sneak them into my locker when I was in high school, and you were a truant."

It was Dally's turn to smirk.

"You're really never going to admit that out in the open, are you?" Lucy asked.

"How can I admit somethin' I never did?"

"There's no winning with you, is there?"

"Not really, naw."

It was Lucy's turn to roll her eyes. She picked up another tube of lipstick and smiled at it as though it were an old friend.

"Aww!" she said again. "This is the shade of lipstick I wore on my sixteenth birthday when you threatened to pour my own Coke over my head."

"You have an empty tube of lipstick from when you were _sixteen_?" Dally asked.

"Yeah."

"Why the fuck would ya do that, man?"

"In case I forgot the color."

"You've never forgotten _shit_, Bennet."

"I've forgotten things."

"What time was it when you saw me outta jail at the Dingo that time? Ya know, the time ya stared me down like you was a matador, and I was the bull?"

Lucy bit her lip and rolled her eyes. She wasn't sure what the most ridiculous part of that last sentence was. No, she knew. It was the fact that in their nearly five years of marriage, she'd been able to teach Dallas Winston the word _matador_ and that he felt comfortable enough using it in their casual conversations. That was the most ridiculous part of _anything_.

"It was 7:09 PM," Lucy said. "I don't know why I committed it to memory like that. I just did. It's my curse."

"_Fuck _is my curse."

"Really? I always thought it was your blessing."

There was a part of Dally that wanted to kiss Lucy for being so cute, but he couldn't make himself do that. He wasn't Sodapop Curtis. After all, Sodapop Curtis had made a very big deal of reminding him of that.

"All I'm sayin' is ya might be sentimental," he said.

"I am _not _sentimental," Lucy said. "I'm tough and cynical. Just like you."

Dally reached into the top drawer of the dresser and pulled out yet another empty tube of lipstick. Like on cue, Lucy broke out into a grin from one ear to the next.

"Aww!" she said. "This is the shade I was wearing when I found out I didn't get into Bryn Mawr."

Her face fell.

"Wait, why did I keep that one?"

"Because you're a fuckin' sentimental hoarder, man," Dally said.

Lucy ignored her husband and went into the top drawer one more time. She came across something that felt solid and cold. Confused, she felt around for it, and once it was in her grasp, she brought it to her eyes and sighed. It was a silver ring.

"What's that?" Dally asked. "Were you married before ya married me? Is that even legal?"

"You don't care about legal," Lucy said.

"I care about it sometimes. I never _liked _going to jail, ya know."

"Well, then, you can relax. I wasn't married before I married you. This isn't that kind of ring. This is a friendship ring."

"A friendship ring? Who did you have a friendship ring…?"

Lucy shot Dally another one of her most dangerous looks, and he swallowed hard. Of course, he should have known. Though Lucy had quite a few friends, there was only one in their fleet who would have shared friendship rings with her.

"Oh," he said. "How come I didn't know about this?"

"You did. I was wearing this ring when you and I first started really yelling at each other. I had it on when it was my eighteenth birthday, and I stormed into your room at Buck's like I owned the place."

"You don't gotta recount it," Dally said (mostly because it was one of the finest nights of his life, and he would never forget it). "I remember you wearin' the ring. I guess I just never put it together that it was somethin' ya did with Sadie."

Lucy nodded. It had been a long time since she'd thought back to that day. She exhaled softly and thought about it, just for a moment.

* * *

On the last day of school when Lucy was in ninth grade, and Sadie was in eighth, Lucy pulled Sadie aside on the school's front lawn and presented her with a box.

"This is a small box," Sadie said.

"Yeah, what about it?" Lucy asked.

"Small boxes usually have small things inside of them. _Expensive_ small things."

"Uh-huh."

"Did you get me something expensive, Lucy?"

"I got you something that was medium expensive. But don't worry. It's not just for you. It's for me, too."

"What?"

"Will you just let me open the box, Sadie?"

"Of course. I'm sorry."

Lucy smiled and opened the box for her friend. In it were two silver rings. Sadie smiled at them, but she wasn't sure what she was looking at.

"These are really pretty," she said. "What are they? Why are there two? Why are you giving them to me?"

Lucy chuckled. She'd missed Sadie Curtis all her life, even before she knew there was a Sadie Curtis out there to miss.

"They're not _both _for you," she said. "One of them is for me, if you like me enough to give me the other one. They're friendship rings."

Sadie scrunched up her face in thought, but she was grinning, too. It was adorable. It was exactly the kind of expression Lucy always imagined on the little sister she never got.

"Like engagement rings, but for friends?" Sadie asked.

Lucy took one of the rings out of the box and put it on Sadie's index finger.

"Yeah," she said. "It's kind of like that."

"They're beautiful," Sadie said. She took the box from Lucy's hands and put the other ring on Lucy's index finger. "But I still don't understand why you'd spend money on me like that."

"Are you kidding me?" Lucy asked. "Sadie, when I moved here, it was the last place I wanted to be. I thought it would be another few years of being bored and angry and having no friends, like always. But then I saw you in my English class. And I don't know how to explain it, but with your copy of _The Catcher in the Rye _and the look on your face … I knew you were exactly the friend I'd been looking for all my life and just hadn't been able to find. I knew it would be OK to come up to you and talk to you. I had no idea how right I was going to end up being."

Sadie beamed.

"When I became friends with you, you gave me more friends than I ever thought was possible for somebody like me," Lucy said. "I mean, just after an hour of knowing you, I met your brothers and all of your other friends. And it was like I was always supposed to be here. None of this would have happened if it weren't for you. You're my best friend."

"Well, of course I am," Sadie said. "You're my best friend, too. This is old news."

"Maybe. But it doesn't mean I don't want to remind you of it."

Sadie stepped forward and hugged Lucy for a moment. Although Lucy didn't typically like to be hugged, she could stand it for Sadie. She could stand almost anything for Sadie.

"I'm going to wear this everyday," Sadie said. "And if anybody ever asks me about it, I'll tell them all about you."

"And I'll tell them all about _you_," Lucy said, "and how I never could have asked for a better best friend."

They took each other's hands and walked down the street back to Lucy's house. Her mother was making chicken and biscuits that night. For a moment, Lucy thought of what it might be like when she and Sadie were older, but she didn't dwell on it for very long. All that mattered then, on that last day of the ninth grade, was that she knew Sadie, and she would know her forever.

* * *

Lucy stared at the ring like it was going to come to life. Before she knew it, Dally plucked the ring from between her fingers and looked at it for himself.

"Hey!" Lucy said, grabbing it back. "What gives you the right? Those friendship rings are for Sadie and me only!"

"Yeah, well, I married you," Dally said.

"I'd like to think I married you."

"Either way, I'm a legal part of whatever it is you have with her."

"We're _best friends_."

"Never liked that phrase too much."

"What?"

"Doesn't matter, man. When did you stop wearin' that ring, anyway? I remember you wearin' it more and more now that you dug it out."

Lucy thought for a moment. Then, she closed her eyes and sighed.

"Of course," she said.

"Of course _what_? I can't read your fuckin' mind. Why do you always think I can read your fuckin' mind?"

"Shut up, will you? I'm trying to answer your question."

"Oh. Right."

She snatched the ring out of Dally's hands and took it in hers again. It really was beautiful – more beautiful at twenty-two than it had been at fifteen, somehow.

"I remember the last time I wore this thing," Lucy said. "It was the day you and I went down to city hall and got married."

Dally laughed, and Lucy smacked him in the chest, much like little Elenore had done the day before.

"Ouch!" he said, though it hadn't hurt at all. He knew how much Lucy liked to be tough. "You gotta admit. It's pretty funny."

"It is, and it also isn't," Lucy said. "I remember what happened. I took the ring off because I didn't want whatever justice of the peace to think we were serious enough to have rings. The only person I was serious enough to have a ring with back then was Sadie, and I didn't want to drag our friendship through the mud of our marriage."

"That's all our marriage is to you, Bennet? _Mud_?"

"It was when we were eighteen and ran into it on a dare."

"You woulda ran into it anyway."

Lucy rolled her eyes. They both knew it was true, but it was no use talking about it.

"Well, things changed," Lucy said. "I got Soda to make a pair of rings for you and me. And I think somewhere in the middle there … what with moving into this apartment and having Elenore … I think I just forgot to put my Sadie ring back on."

The gravity of what she had just said hit her unexpectedly, and she wandered over to the edge of her bed and sat down. She looked like she was off in a different dimension. After breathing heavily for a moment or two, she spoke again.

"I'm a horrible best friend."

"No, you ain't," Dally said. "And you're gonna cut it out with that shit 'fore I smack ya, just like you smacked me."

"I did not smack you!"

"You smacked."

"I _tapped_."

"One woman's tap is another woman's punch in the lungs. Guess which one you are."

"I can't even think of whether or not Sadie still wears her friendship ring," Lucy said.

"Well, she probably don't. She's got a wedding ring from Johnny and all that fuckin' jazz, man."

"But we said we'd always wear them."

"And my parole officer said I'd always be a piece of shit. Am I still a piece of shit?"

"Am I one for answering that question honestly?"

Dally bit his tongue so that he wouldn't laugh. He came around to the bed and sat next to Lucy.

"Look, it's real cute that you and Sadie got … girl married, or whatever," he said.

"We're working on just calling that _marriage_, for your information," Lucy added.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Anyway. It don't fuckin' matter if ya wear these fuckin' rings or not. Don't change a thing about what ya already know."

"What do we already know?"

Dally stood up and headed for the door. He'd heard Elenore wake up in the next room.

"You don't gotta ask me," he said. "But you do gotta talk to her. Darry's gettin' married next week, if you'll remember."

Dally walked out of the room, and Lucy was left alone on her bed. She looked at the ring one more time and slipped it on over the ring finger on her right hand. It seemed like the only thing she could do.

* * *

"'F I tell you somethin', do you promise not to tell your fuckin' sister?"

Steve sat up in bed and turned his head to look at Violet, who was lying flat on her back, tuff as ever.

"What're you talkin' about?" he asked.

"I'm talkin' about a secret. And if you tell me you ain't gonna tell your fuckin' sister about it, then I might just let you in on it."

Steve looked at Violet for a long time. He wondered how long it would take her to notice that he wanted her to sit up and look at him, too. He must have sat there on his elbow for a full minute before she took the hint.

When she sat up, she pointed at him.

"You ain't promised," she said. "I can't tell you shit if you don't promise."

"Since when do _you _care about promises?" Steve asked. "You're Violet."

"Yeah, well, I'm not _that _Violet. D'you promise you ain't gonna go runnin' to that fuckin' sister of yours?"

"Me and Jane don't tell each other very much. I ain't never told her about you."

"Well, that's a no fuckin' brainer. You like stayin' alive, and ya know she'd kill ya if she ever found out you was slippin' it to me, so ya don't say shit."

Steve was quiet for a moment. He'd never thought about telling Jane that he was having an affair with Violet. He never thought about telling Jane much of anything. The Randle siblings weren't like the Curtis brothers and Sadie, or like Lilly and Johnny Cade. They respected each other. They would protect each other if it really came down to it. Steve knew that. But Jane was not the person he ran to if something was on his mind, nor was he the go-to for her. For a moment, he wished that were different, but then, he stopped wishing for it. It didn't do him any good to wish for anything. He'd figured out a long time ago that wishes weren't for him. He'd wished not to go to Vietnam and wished never to love anyone who wasn't Evie. In his mind, he snorted. Look how that had turned out.

"What's the fuckin' secret?" Steve asked. "I'm dyin' over here."

Violet let out a long exhale. She wasn't sure if it was really fair to tell Steve the truth, but she wasn't sure how much longer she could be expected to hold this in. Stupid Dally – always giving her things to do that she couldn't realistically contend with. This was just more of his bullshit, like when he'd run off to New York or when he used to send her fucking _letters in the mail _because even Dallas Winston was chicken shit sometimes. He was chicken shit in front of the old man, and he knew it. Violet rolled her eyes at the thought of her brother. Yes, she thought. This _was _the right thing to do. It was her way of getting back at Dally for being so … unexpectedly Dally.

"Dally and Lucy ain't told anybody the truth about when they're moving out to New York," Violet said. She hadn't blurted it. It just rolled right off her tongue.

"What're you talkin' about?" Steve asked. He was almost defensive. "Sure they have. They told us they were outta here on August 1."

"They're lyin'. Lucy's gotta be over there early so she can start her teacher trainin' or somethin'. I don't fuckin' know the ins and outs of it. Anyway, they ain't leavin' August 1."

"Well, if they ain't leavin' on August 1, when are they leavin'?"

"May 16."

"That's the day after Darry's wedding."

"Guess it is. Can't really say whether or not that's true, though, considerin' I wasn't invited."

Steve bit his lip. He hadn't given much thought to it before, but in the year he'd been with Violet, he hated that she'd been ousted from the girls and their get-togethers. It was all because of some dumb fight that neither Violet nor Jane would really tell him about. He hoped Violet had decked his sister good. He hoped his sister had decked _Violet _good. It was complicated, and when he thought about it too much, it made him sick to his stomach.

"I just don't fuckin' get it," Steve said. "Why would they lie? I mean, your brother's a lyin' sack of shit, always has been …"

Violet laughed a little. That was about as close to affection as Steve could ever muster for anyone who wasn't Sodapop Curtis.

"But Lucy's always been pretty real," he said. "Why would they lie?"

"It's all Lucy's idea, actually," Violet said. "She's too scared to tell Sadie that they ain't gonna have the whole summer together. They've spent every summer together since Lucy moved here. Means a lot to 'em or somethin'. I dunno."

Violet reached for the nightstand and lit herself a cigarette. Steve followed suit and noticed that there was maybe something off about the woman next to him. He'd known Violet since they were kids, but it wasn't until they shared an illicit bed that he realized how well he actually knew her.

"'S there somethin' wrong?" he asked.

Violet snorted.

"Even if there were, do ya really think I'd tell you?" she asked.

"Well, I dunno," Steve said. "We spend a lotta time together. I don't think it's _all _about fuckin'."

"It's mostly about fuckin'."

"But ya didn't say _all_."

Violet rolled her eyes. She tried to swallow the affection she had for Steve, but she couldn't. It just went up in the air for her to breathe in again. She took a long drag of her smoke, hoping to pollute it … hoping it would infect her lungs and never come out. She knew she didn't make a lot of sense, but she also knew there was nobody alive who could blame her for it.

"I don't like the idea of Dally goin'," Violet said.

"Goin' with Lucy?" Steve asked.

Violet shook her head.

"Naw, man, I want him with Lucy," she said. "When he's with Lucy, he's the closest thing to … _happy _… 's I ever seen him. And that means a lot to me as his kid sister. Just don't fuckin' tell him that."

"Never in a million years."

"Yeah, you fuckin' bet."

"Why don't ya want him to go, then? If it ain't about him and Lucy."

Violet sighed. She didn't want to say it. She didn't want to say anything. But there was something about Steve Randle, vulnerable in bed, that made it seem all right. It made it seem like this was something worth being honest for. She hated the feeling and loved it all the same.

"It's about Dally, by himself," Lucy said. "In general. I dunno. It's like … he left me behind once before to go to New York, right? And he was gone for three years. Three years, he was gone, and he left me here. He knows what fuckin' happened to me while he was gone, and he thinks he can just do it again? I think he better think again."

Steve thought again about what he might say or do if he were Soda. He might tuck Violet's long hair behind her ear and tell her that everything was going to be OK. Things weren't the same now as they were when she and Dally were just kids. Violet could survive on her own. She was the toughest and the tuffest broad he'd ever known, and he'd known some tough broads (including Evie, whom he'd need to get up and go see soon). It wasn't the same anymore at all. Violet wasn't on her own. She and Dally were in a better place than they'd ever been. They saw each other now. They were almost a real part of each other's lives again. Beyond that, Violet was less alone now than she'd ever been, especially when she was a kid. Now, she had Steve.

At least, Violet had Steve for about two and a half hours a day, three days a week.

But Steve couldn't bring himself to say or do any of that. It wasn't who he was. So, all he did was look at her until she noticed. When she furrowed her brow at him, all he said was, "Ya look kinda hot when ya smoke."

Violet rolled her eyes.

"If you ain't careful, I'll burn a hole right through these sheets," she said.

"Go ahead," Steve said. "They're real cheap. Wouldn't mean a thing."

"Yeah, well. I don't think your girl would be too thrilled if she found out what really happened. Do you?"

Steve sighed. He thought about Evie all the time. He thought about Evie when he was working down at the DX. He thought about Evie when Soda talked about how much he loved Jane, and his eyes lit up like the fireflies he and Sadie used to love to catch in the middle of the summer. The only time he didn't want to think about Evie was when he was with Violet. When he was with Violet, he wanted to only be consumed with thoughts of _Violet_.

But he felt like shit for that – really, he did. He knew that Violet was worth more than being some guy's indulgence. He knew that everyone would be better off if he just told Evie he was out of there and got together with Violet once and for all. Jane would come around and forgive Violet for all the fights they'd had since they were kids. She was forgiving that way. Steve used to tease her for it and call her soft, but now … now that was all different. Now, he wanted Jane to open her arms and welcome Violet into their fucked-up little family. Dally might be a little standoffish about it, but that was Dally. He was standoffish about everything. The guy had been married for coming up on five years, and Soda once told Steve that he'd never told Lucy that he loved her. But everyone would come around to Violet and Steve. They'd have to.

And yet, Steve could never do it. It was like he owed it to Evie to stay with her. She always made a fuss about how Soda and Sandy hadn't made it, and while that was a little bit sad (Evie and Sandy had been good friends.), it made their successful relationship all the sweeter. Steve always gulped and nodded when she said things like that. He loved Evie. He couldn't try to say that he didn't because that would have been a lie, and Steve didn't like to lie. His brutal honesty was the reason Ponyboy had hated them when they were kids. Violet, as it turned out, was the only thing he could lie about. He didn't know why. He loved her, too, even though he'd never say it. Steve loved Violet, and he knew it. It just wasn't the kind of thing he could live out in the open. No one would ever understand. He didn't even understand.

"Don't worry about her right now," was all Steve could say. "This is me and you."

"Aww, don't pull that fuckin' cheese on me," Violet said.

"I ain't pullin' cheese!"

"Cheese has been pulled, and you're the one who did the pulling."

Steve almost laughed. He hadn't realized how much Violet had picked up from being Lucy Bennet's sister-in-law. He kind of liked hearing her talk like that. Even though Steve and Lucy hadn't been especially close (not like Lucy and Soda, as Lucy was sometimes more like Sadie and Soda's triplet rather than just Sadie's best friend), he'd always gotten a kick out of having her around. She sure did talk funny.

"So, that's it, huh?" Steve asked. "Dally's outta here with his wife and the kid in …"

"A week and a half," Violet said. "And he and Lucy say they're gonna come back and visit me. I guess I believe 'em. Lucy's pretty reliable."

"She is," Steve said. "Why're ya doubtin' her, then?"

"She ain't the one I doubt. Plus, even if she does manage to drag Dally's sorry ass outta New York for a visit back here, me and you both know that a visit ain't gonna be long enough. He's trappin' me here, and I don't fuckin' like it. Sometimes I wish …"

Violet stopped, but it didn't matter. She and Steve both knew what she was going to say. Sometimes, she wished she was able to go with Lucy, Dally, and Elenore to New York. When she was with them, she felt like she was finally part of a family that loved her – that thought she was worth being herself, not just a prize in a poker game full of big men with big problems. Steve wished so badly that he could give that kind of love and family to her. He just knew he couldn't. There was no reason why he couldn't. He just couldn't. Violet Winston was a risk, and Evie was a lock. He'd taken too many risks in his life. The risks left him with holes in his mouth and scars on more places than he could see. As much as he wanted to believe it, he wasn't a kid anymore. He couldn't go around stomping and liking it, too. With Violet, it would be a life of stomping. With Evie, it would be quieter. Steve had to ready himself for the quiet.

"Well, whatever," Violet said. "Visits ain't gonna be enough. I hate the son of a bitch. For the last five years, he's finally been a decent enough brother. And then, all of a sudden, he's gone. He thinks five years can make up for the fifteen before that? No fuckin' way, man. No fuckin' way."

Steve couldn't tell if she was directing her questions and anger at him or at the specter of Dally. It didn't matter to him. He grabbed Violet's hand, put it in his, and squeezed. At first, she was taken aback – not used to physical connection as affection yet, even after all this time. But she eased into it. She even squeezed his hand right back.

"Fuck them for leavin'," Steve said, even though he wasn't sure he meant that.

"You said it," Violet said. "You promise me you ain't gonna tell nobody what I just told you? Lucy would beat the shit outta me if she found out I gave up that secret."

"You think Lucy Bennet could take you in a fight?" Steve asked, laughing a little.

"Oh, I know she could. Girl's got years of pent-up aggression, and she don't smoke. Her lung capacity can do fuckin' circles 'round mine."

Steve laughed again and squeezed Violet's hand one more time. This time, she was more receptive. Steve had to smile. Violet was always more receptive of physical affection the second time he gave it to her. By the second time, she usually realized that it wasn't a trap.

Except for the fact that their whole affair was a trap. But it wasn't as though either of them had the patience or the strength to acknowledge that.

"I ain't gonna tell nobody," Steve said. "Your secret's safe with me."

Violet nodded. Perhaps she hadn't needed to drill the whole "secret" thing into Steve's head quite as hard as she did. Of course he could keep a secret. She had all the proof she needed in that very bed.

After all, she was his best and most favorite secret to keep.

* * *

Lucy stood behind the counter at Great Books, bored out of her mind. She hadn't been scheduled to work that afternoon, but Eddie needed to give his sister a ride to the doctor, so Lucy told him she would mind the store for a few extra bucks. Eddie agreed but reminded her that he was going to get her a going-away present either way. Lucy's heart clenched when Eddie told her about that. She thought about how she'd miss him once she moved out of the apartment above the store, but it hadn't become real until that moment. In just over a week, she wouldn't work for Eddie anymore. She wouldn't be his tenant. After almost five years in one place, Lucy thought, you start to make memories that you can't get rid of. Eddie, however much of a dork he was, was one of those memories for Lucy.

She would have to try extra hard not to cry when she said her last goodbye to him.

But that afternoon was slow, like many afternoons in the beginning of May. It was slow until the door opened and in walked the man once accused of never cracking a book a day in his life.

"Soda!" Lucy said and ran out from behind the counter, unusually happy to see him there. "What are you doing here?"

Soda smiled, but he looked uneasy. Lucy took a few steps back, realizing that might be her fault. Out of all the Curtis brothers, Soda was still the one who liked to hug the most. He was still the one who liked to stand close to you while you told him stories about your day. But it wasn't the same. And unless he was very prepared for your affection, he didn't like to be approached that way anymore. Lucy took even more steps back, embarrassed that even after a year of adjusting to the "new" Sodapop Curtis, she'd forgotten.

"Well, ain't it obvious?" he asked. "I'm here to read the great Greek plays."

Lucy laughed.

"What can I do for you, Soda?" she asked.

"I just wanted to talk to ya," he said. "Can I do that?"

"Of course. It's a slow day, obviously, and I don't have much to do. Of course, even if it was Christmas, and we were swamped with customers, they'd just have to wait. That's how much it means to me that I get the chance to talk to you."

Soda grinned and stepped closer to Lucy. He realized just how badly he'd miss her smile when he didn't get to see it everyday. Of course, he'd been away from his very good friend for a long time before, and when he was in Vietnam, there was every chance he'd never come back to her, her husband, and their beautiful little girl. But now that Lucy was taking Dally and Elenore and moving all the way to New York City, it felt … Soda wasn't quite sure what the word was. Maybe it was just _worse_. It felt worse. After all, Soda hadn't chosen to be drafted into Vietnam. Lucy had chosen New York and NYU for her career. She'd chosen it for Dally and Elenore, too. But Soda would never bring that up out loud. He knew Lucy would have his head for it, and he'd deserve it … even if it _were _true.

"Tuff," Soda said. "Hey, listen. I was kinda hopin' we could talk about … ya know, that thing I told you about on the night of your graduation?"

Lucy's heart stopped a little, and she nodded. How could she forget? That was the night when Soda told her that when he got shot in Vietnam, he thought he died and saw his mother in heaven. That wasn't the kind of thing you just let drift to the back of your mind. Ever since he'd confided in Lucy about that, she'd been dreaming about it. It was a horrible dream. She always woke up in a cold sweat, gasping for breathing, muttering to herself, "That was really scary" under her breath like a child. But even for all the horror that those dreams gave to her, she had to admit there was one upside.

It sure was nice to see Mrs. Curtis again.

"What about it?" Lucy asked.

Soda pulled up one of the high stools at the back of the shop and pulled it in front of the counter. He sat down and rested his elbows in front of Lucy. She was impressed that he was lean and lanky enough to reach that far. At 5'3," Lucy could hardly reach any of the books that customers asked for. It was the only thing, she often joked, that kept her from ruling the world. That was why she needed Dally.

It was why she needed Soda, too, and it was why she never wanted to tell him when she was really leaving. Her heart clenched. All this time, she'd been worried about what would happen when she had to tell Sadie the truth. She'd only been thinking about Sadie, her best friend, the person she hadn't always been the greatest to. Even though Soda had been back from Vietnam for a year already, Lucy realized that she'd almost forgotten the truth. Soda was just another part of Sadie. When she worried about one of them, she worried about them both. Or, at least, that was the way it used to be.

What was so different now? Why didn't it seem like Sadie and Soda were twins anymore?

"Well," Soda said. "I told Jane."

Lucy smiled.

"That's wonderful," she said, and she meant it. "I'm glad you were able to talk to her like that. She hasn't said anything, really, but I could tell Jane felt bad that you were keeping her a little out of the loop."

Soda nodded.

"Yeah, me too," he said. "But I told her everything. She's barely let me outta her sight since then, but it's a good deal. It's like … I dunno, it's like when it's just me and her, I can breathe again. Ya know? It's real nice when you ain't keepin' a big secret about how unhappy you are from the person you're married to."

Lucy nodded almost without realizing just how much she was nodding.

"It's like living in hell," Lucy said. "It's like living in hell, only it's a little bit worse, probably, because you're the one who put yourself there."

"Yeah," Soda said. Then, it dawned on him what Lucy must have been talking about. His goofy Sodapop smile turned into the serious face he'd perfected over the past two years.

"Oh," he added. "Lucy, I know it's been a long time since I've been back, but …"

"It's OK," Lucy said. "Your body might have been back here since last spring, but you haven't really been back here yet. That's OK. You're catching up."

He smiled again. This time, it was the kind of soft smile he reserved for his siblings – all _four _of them. Lucy recognized that, and she relaxed a little, too. She hated that she tensed up whenever she saw Soda now. He used to be one of the few people in the world that calmed her down. She knew it wasn't his fault that she got tense around him now. It didn't change the fact that she felt like shit about it. All she wanted was for things to go back to the way they were. All she wanted was for everyone – including herself – to _breathe _around Soda again.

"Thank you," he said, wondering if she had any idea how much it meant to him to hear her say that. Since he'd been back, he felt like all of his siblings had been pressuring him to go back to the way he was before he shipped out. They wanted prewar, happy-go-lucky Soda back, and when they didn't get him, they wanted postwar Soda – trauma Soda, the Soda who bawled like a baby when he was sixteen because Ponyboy and Darry wouldn't stop fighting. They didn't stop to think that maybe he wasn't a record they could play at their leisure until Lucy said it was OK that he was only now catching up. He wanted to thank her again, so he did.

"Thank you," he repeated. "But, Lucy, I just want to let ya know. I'm real sorry that you weren't doin' so well when I was … well, when I was away."

"It's OK," Lucy said. She felt programmed to say that. She'd been to a therapist who tossed around words that scared like, like _depression_, but she felt like she needed to resist it. She felt like she didn't have the right to have a label like _depression_. She was too fortunate for that. She had too many wonderful things and too many exciting opportunities to go around and tell people, "I struggle with _depression_." She'd much rather tell people she was OK because no one pities someone who's just OK.

But, of course, Soda saw right through that.

"No, it's not," he said. "You ain't gotta pretend in front of me, just like I don't gotta pretend in front of you."

Lucy nodded. She felt herself begin to breathe easier again. He was starting to sound like her little adoptive brother again. Maybe, if she could distill that moment and put it in a bottle, she'd be ready to move to New York already.

It wasn't just about leaving Sadie. It was about leaving Soda, and that made it hurt twice as much.

"I wish I could've done somethin' for you," he said. "Somethin' more than just write letters."

"I lived for your letters," Lucy said without missing a beat. "I'll never lose them. They meant everything to me. Especially the one you accidentally sent to my parents' house."

"Funny how that worked out. But I really am sorry I couldn't be there for you. I wanted to be."

"I know. I wanted to be there for you, too."

They were quiet. In their quietness, they realized for the first time in over a year just how much they had missed each other, in particular.

Lucy sniffed.

"Anyway," she said. "I'm glad you told Jane about what happened. I know it's not going to fix everything, but …"

"At least she knows."

"Right. At least she knows."

"But it ain't enough just to have told you and Jane. If I wanna let people know how I'm doin', for real, the next step I gotta take is …"

"You have to tell Sadie about it, too."

Soda nodded.

"And I figured if anybody could help me figure out how to tell her," he said, "it would be you. You're closer to her than I am sometimes, 'specially now that me and her have been apart for so long."

He stood up and wandered over to the bookshelf like he was going to pick one up, but he didn't. He wasn't even sure where to begin. Lucy needed to do the picking for him. That was the way things went.

"I just never thought, ya know?" he asked.

"Never thought what?"

"Never thought I'd lose track of Sadie. I mean, she's my twin, ain't she? She's part of me, and I'm part of her."

"That's true. That's never stopped being true."

"Yeah, it has. I just didn't think it ever could, and I guess that was the biggest mistake I made."

Lucy nodded. She thought of herself and Elenore from a year earlier, and her heart clenched. She hated herself in that moment – in part because she still regretted that she missed out on a whole year of Elenore's life and in part because she really wished Soda had been around for it. Something told her that she wouldn't have acted that way if Soda were around. Lucy and Dally had a knack for straightening their spines when they were around Frances's middle son.

"So, you're an expert in my sister," Soda said. "And I don't think you've ever kept a secret from her. So, tell me. How would you tell her the truth about me gettin' shot, seein' our mom in heaven, and comin' back 'cause I wasn't ready to go?"

Lucy took a deep breath. She wasn't ready for what she was about to say, and she knew that Dally would get angry if he found out what she was about to do. He wouldn't even let her tell _Lynnie_, her own cousin, because she was too close to Sadie. But this? This was unarguably worse.

"Before we think about that," she said, "there's something you should know."

* * *

As Katie clocked out of her shift at Jay's, Lilly clocked in and rammed right into her. And though Lilly smiled hopefully, Katie grimaced. So, Lilly did the only thing she knew how to do: Chase Katie around until she stopped in her tracks.

Finally, Katie dug her heels into the floor and whirled around.

"What?" she asked.

"I need to talk to you," Lilly said.

"Well, I don't need to talk to you. You were rude in front of Blossom. You were rude _to _Blossom. I don't care if you're my best friend. She's my girlfriend, it was scary as all hell for her to come out and meet you, and you didn't seem to give a shit."

She tried to push past Lilly again, but Lilly blocked her. For as angry as she was, Katie had to admit she was impressed. She never thought Lilly could be that strong before.

"Look, I know what I did was shitty," Lilly said. "I knew it the whole time I was doin' it, but I just can't seem to stop myself. I don't know what's goin' on with me. I'm pregnant, and I ain't got a clue who the father is. I'm losin' your brother to Laura Lubbock, and I'm losin' you to … I dunno, time, or whatever."

Katie wrinkled her nose, suddenly filled with empathy for Lilly (though all she really wanted to do was hold a grudge).

"Why would you lose me to anything?" Katie said.

"Because it's all different now," Lilly said. "I'm gonna have a baby. You're gonna have a Blossom. We ain't the same kids we were even a year ago. Soon enough, it's like …"

She shrugged. It didn't seem worth it to carry on.

"Well, you ain't gonna lose me to time or to nothin'," Katie said. "We been friends since we was babies. I ain't gotten rid of you yet. Why would I get rid of you now?"

Lilly cocked her eyebrows pointedly. This was an opportunity.

"Oh, yeah?" she asked.

"Yeah," Katie said. "What'chu gettin' at?"

"If I ain't gonna lose you, even for the way I acted in front of Blossom yesterday, why bother stayin' mad at me today?"

Katie folded her arms across her chest and sighed. Lilly bit her lip to conceal a smug laugh. She knew she had her. Katie was a lot of things, but Lilly was always a little quicker on the uptake.

"Because it ain't like when ya stole all my fries that time, or when ya told me ya thought my dress for the prom was ugly," Katie said.

"You've got red hair, and yellow washes you out," Lilly said. "I just need you to understand that."

"See? You're doin' it again."

Katie tried to push her way past Lilly once again. To get creative, Lilly grabbed a strawberry milkshake off the counter and held it over Katie's head. She flinched, and one of the other waitresses snapped.

"Hey!" she said. "I was gonna take that to table two!"

"I'm in the middle of somethin'!" Lilly said. "Make another one."

The other waitress muttered some choice words for Lilly under her breath, and she took off for the kitchen. Katie looked up at Lilly, exhaustion in her eyes.

"Please don't pour that on me before I gotta start workin'," Katie said. "I'll have to clock out, and you know I can't waste any cash."

"If you don't listen to me, I won't care," Lilly said. "I'll dump this all over your head, and you don't look good in pink."

"You just keep _proving my point_! You're gonna be a mother soon. Why don't you act like one?"

"And why don't you give up a grudge now if you know you ain't gonna keep it forever?"

"Because you're bein' a jerk!"

"What if I told you I had information?"

"Oh, please. What _kind _of information?"

It came out of Lilly's mouth so quickly, and she knew once it was out, she couldn't take it back. She couldn't just lie to Katie now – not now that she was holding a milkshake over her head in a desperate, immature attempt to reconcile. But that was the kind of reconciliation you had with someone you'd known since you were a baby, Lilly thought. You could hold a milkshake over their head, and they could call you a jerk in front of strangers, but in the end, you'd walk away loving each other.

"I got gossip," Lilly said. "And it's the kind of gossip that I ain't supposed to tell anyone, so I can tell _you_, 'cause you're my best friend. And everyone knows it's what we do."

Katie looked up at Lilly, a new look in her eye. Slowly, Lilly lowered the milkshake back down onto the counter. She knew. Even as they were both growing up and finding their places as women, not girls, they couldn't resist being the gang's gossips.

"If you'd led with that, I wouldn't have wanted to hold this grudge for half a second," Katie said. "This changes things."

"I know," Lilly said. "And I wanna tell you. Not just 'cause I want your approval back and for you not be mad at me anymore. But because it's making me real nervous, and I don't like to be nervous."

"What's wrong?" Katie asked. "Is it the baby? Is there somethin' wrong with the baby?"

Thankfully, Lilly shook her head.

"Naw," Lilly said. "It's about Lucy and Dally and Elenore."

"What about them?"

Lilly took a deep breath and hoped Lucy would forgive her for telling a secret that she wasn't even supposed to know.

"They ain't movin' in August," Lilly said.

"What's goin' on?" Katie asked. "Are they movin' at all? Did somethin' happen to Lucy's job? Her scholarship?"

Thankfully, Lilly shook her head again.

"It ain't nothin' like that," she said. "They ain't movin' in August 'cause they're movin' in a week and a half."

And Lilly was struck. It was the first time since she and Katie were little kids that she realized how much Katie looked like her big brother. As it turned out, their smiles looked just alike, but their frowns were indistinguishable.

* * *

"You _what_?"

"You're not listening."

"Oh, I'm listenin'. And what I'm hearin' is that you think it's real tuff not to listen to me. And it wasn't even my fuckin' idea!"

Lucy put her face in her hands. She knew she was going to have to deal with the repercussions from Dally at some point, but she didn't realize she'd be quite so embarrassed about backing down on her own rules. She also didn't realize she'd have quite this terrible of a headache.

"Look, I'm starting to lose it," Lucy said. "The longer I keep this secret, the guiltier I feel, and I start not to make very much sense. Ever since I told Soda the truth about when we're really moving, my head's felt so much clearer. And what can you ask for but a clear head?"

"How 'bout keepin' your word, huh?" Dally asked. "How about keepin' your fuckin' word after you said this was what ya wanted? After ya made me promise not to tell nobody the truth except for V? Dammit, Bennet. You should know how to keep your fuckin' word. Even I know how to fuckin' do that, man. It's like you didn't even grow up here or somethin'."

_I didn't_, Lucy thought, but she wouldn't dare say it out loud. _That's part of what's making it so hard to leave_.

"You should stop yelling," Lucy said. She tried to keep her voice even and flat, even though she felt like she was going to cry. "Elenore's trying to sleep, and it's not a good idea to wake her up."

"Dammit, Bennet," Dally growled again. "Elenore ain't been sleepin' well since the day she was born, and you know it."

"I know. I just don't want her to hear us fighting. I don't want her to get nervous."

Dally sighed. Sometimes, he wondered just how much of 1968 and 1969 his daughter remembered. He wondered if she still remembered that her mom used to be gone a lot of the time, and taking care of her was usually left up to him. He wondered if she remembered the night Lucy fell asleep in the library and almost abandoned them forever. Sometimes, he wondered just how much Elenore remembered about that year, and he knew that if he only got one wish in his whole life, it would be to make sure that Elenore never knew how touch-and-go it felt for awhile there. If he only got one wish in his life, it would be for Elenore to know how much she was loved by _both _of her parents, even if he wasn't the kind of daddy who would tell her so. He sat down at the tiny table across from Lucy and tried to lower his voice.

"Alright, you listen to me," he said. "I always thought this idea about not tellin' people when we're really outta here was a stupid fuckin' idea. You know that."

Lucy didn't say anything. Dally was right (Dally was _always _right about her.), and she didn't want to dignify his rightness with a response. She wasn't that soft.

"But I told you I wouldn't tell nobody anyway," he said. "I told you that 'cause you're my wife, and that's what ya gotta do. And I thought we talked about this yesterday when we decided we weren't gonna tell Lynnie nothin'."

"We did," Lucy said. "But you don't understand. Soda was talking to me about how I've never kept a secret from Sadie in all the time she's been my best friend, and I just couldn't keep a secret from her twin brother like that anymore. I felt like shit. Don't I get a pass for feeling like shit?"

"No!" Dally said, then realized he needed to keep his voice down for Elenore. "No. You don't get a pass for backin' down on a promise. You grew up here. I thought you knew that."

Lucy looked down at her hands, too embarrassed to look up. She wondered if her husband would ever catch his mistake. It didn't look like he would.

"I'm sorry," she finally said, still not looking up from her hands.

Dally sighed and reached out his hand to take hers. Slowly, she accepted. Even more slowly, she lifted her eyes from the table and looked at him. She was taken aback. Dally's harsh eyes were having a rare moment of softness, and so, Lucy's heart softened a bit, too. She loved these moments. She especially loved how unpredictable they were. Maybe that was part of why she stayed with Dally even when her left brain told her she was crazy for doing it. She couldn't imagine living a life where she didn't get to see whether or not he'd make his eyes go soft that day.

"'S OK," he said, and Lucy knew he meant it. Dally said a lot of things, but he never said anything he didn't mean. "But I just want you to know somethin'."

"Yeah?" Lucy asked.

"Now that you gone and told Soda about when we're really leavin', and tellin' Soda a secret is the same thing as tellin' his sister, cat's gonna be outta the bag," Dally said. "I know you trust Soda 'n everything …"

"You used to."

Dally exhaled sharply, and Lucy knew to back off. His problems with Sodapop Curtis were his, and she didn't need to get involved. It wasn't good for anyone if they started taking sides within themselves.

"Anyway," he said. "I know you trust Soda, but he ain't ever kept a secret from his twin. Wouldn't be surprised if Sadie breaks down this door to scream at'cha before morning."

Lucy nodded.

"I know," she said. "I'm not ready for it, but I'm expecting it. Just … when it happens … you'll be there to back me up?"

"Sure," Dally said. "I live here, don't I? Where the fuck else am I gonna be?"

Lucy leaned forward and kissed Dally, who'd gotten better at anticipating (and thus, dealing with) Lucy's spontaneous kisses. He never figured he'd be alive at the age of twenty-two and certainly never figured he'd be married to a woman who liked to give him spontaneous kisses, so naturally, it had taken some time for him to ease into it (and even more time for him to determine whether or not he deserved it). But he was coming along. He'd spent the past five years coming along.

"Hey," he said. "Can I ask you somethin'?"

"You don't have to ask that first," Lucy said. "You can just ask your question."

"Don't be cute."

"I think you like it when I am."

Dally looked at Lucy and smirked. If he were the kind of husband who gave spontaneous kisses, he would have given her one right then. But he was just Dally, and all he could do was smirk and hope she knew what that stood for. Of course, Bennet was smart. She knew.

"Well," he said. "How come you don't wanna tell Sadie the truth? I know she's your best friend, and I know you don't like to piss her off or disappoint her or whatever. But why don't _you _want to tell her the truth?"

Lucy sighed. She saw the subtle difference in her husband's question, and she squeezed his hand, hoping he'd still like her even after she was grossly vulnerable in front of him (and, more terrifyingly, in front of herself).

"I don't know," she said. "I guess I kind of feel cheated."

"Cheated?" he asked. "Listen, I ain't seen no broad but you since I was seventeen."

Lucy laughed a little.

"Not cheated like that," she said. "Cheated like … everybody else got to have all this time together, right? You grew up with these people."

"So did you," Dally said, but to his surprise, Lucy shook her head.

"I didn't," she said. "I moved here just a few months before I turned fifteen. I didn't meet you all until I was in high school. By then, you all knew each other so well, it was like you could have full conversations without even talking."

Dally didn't say anything because there was nothing he could say. As much as he loathed admitting that he had ever been close to anybody, even his wife and his daughter, he couldn't deny what Lucy was saying. He and the gang did know each other well. They might have known each other too well. That might have been why he got the same stabs of pain when he thought about walking out of Great Books for the last time, too.

"I feel like I was just getting to that point," Lucy said. "I mean, I'd been there with Sadie and Soda and even Jane for awhile, but I felt like I was just getting to be able to talk to everybody without talking. And now … now I'm supposed to leave. And I want to. I want this job. I want to study. I want to move to New York with you and Elenore. I want all of it. But when I think about not seeing these people everyday anymore … when I think about having to start over and make friends with people … I just don't know. And telling Sadie the truth about when we're really leaving … well, without Sadie, none of this even happens in the first place. She's the one who made it all happen, and if I tell her, then I know it's really over. And I'm just afraid I might be too tired to break into another group and learn a whole new set of codes again. It took me eight years to learn this one. How am I supposed to get up and do it again?"

Dally desperately wanted to have the right words to say, but he was married to a writer. None of the words he could have said would have been good enough for her. All he could do was squeeze her hand back and wink at her.

"You ain't gonna have to do it again," he said. "This kinda thing? Only happens once."

He had no idea, but Lucy thought it was the most profound thing she'd heard all day. She'd always known her husband had a way with words. It was probably why she loved him before she knew she loved him.

"Mommy?"

Lucy and Dally turned around in their chairs to see a pajama-clad Elenore out of bed. Her hair was messed up and wild, and her eyes were the kind of red that you only get when you've been trying your hardest not to cry.

Dally noticed those eyes – knew he knew them well. He bit his tongue when he realized just how familiar she looked. If he couldn't believe her last name was Winston before, he could believe it now. She was three years old, and she was already trying her hardest not to cry.

Lucy immediately got up from her chair, scooped Elenore off the ground, and placed her on her knee. She held her closed and kissed her cheek.

"What's wrong?" she asked. "Don't you want to be asleep?"

Elenore nodded, and Lucy felt her body shake. It was unmistakable, as she'd felt it in Violet's body for years. Elenore was trying her hardest not to cry.

"Uh-huh," Elenore said. "But Dad yelling."

Then, Lucy looked up at Dally with dread in her eyes. To her surprise, Dally was wearing the same dread on his face. This was it. This was the nightmare. Elenore must have remembered something about that year, and there was nothing he knew how to do to stop it now.

But, of course, when he didn't know how to figure something out, Lucy was all over it.

"Oh, Elenore," Lucy said. "Did we scare you?"

"Not _you_, Mommy," Elenore said. "_Dad_."

Once again, Lucy looked up at Dally. After eight years of living in the neighborhood and five years of being married, both of them knew what their looks meant. Lucy was asking Dally if Elenore was upset with him for yelling because in that year she'd been depressed, Elenore had grown to recognize Dally as the parent she could always count on. The look on Dally's face was simple, poignant, and painful.

All it said was, "Yes."

Lucy didn't know what to do, so she just held Elenore closer to her. She kissed the top of her head one more time and rocked her on the chair, even though it wasn't comfortable for either of them. That was what you did when you were somebody's mom, she thought. You crafted solace out of cheap kitchen chairs.

"Nobody's yelling," Lucy said, her voice softer than it had ever been in all her life. "Nobody's upset. Nobody's going anywhere."

"We are," Elenore said. "We goin' to _Nooo York_."

Lucy nodded and continued to rock Elenore in her place.

"That's true," Lucy said. "We are going to New York. But what I mean to say is that you don't have to worry about ever being too far away from either of us. Mommy and Dad are gonna be with you wherever you go."

"Even when I go to the potty?"

"This is a small house!" Dally said. "We couldn't avoid that if we tried."

Lucy laughed, and as she held Elenore, she wondered if maybe what her father said yesterday was right. Her story in Tulsa was over. She'd gotten out of it exactly what she needed to get out of it (Dally and Elenore), and now, she could move on. Maybe it was a good thing she broke her own rule and told Soda the truth about when they were leaving.

So, then, why did the ring on her right hand feel so tight?

* * *

**HOLY, HOLY, HOLY. I have not updated this since **_**February**_**. I've evidently been active with a few fun one shots, but I was worried this one might ironically fall to the wayside for way too long (Maybe this was already way too long.). I've been working on this story for **_**nine months**_**, and it only takes place over two weeks. That's not even remotely proportionate. But I told myself that I couldn't publish anything else until I plowed through this chapter. So, there you have it: a very mediocre and repetitive chapter of 'Turn the Page' at your service. Right now, it's almost the best I could do.**

**Hinton owns **_**The Outsiders**_**. I own a pair of petite earbuds that are mostly broken, and the brand is discontinued … and now I'm mad!**


	9. Chapter 9

"Alright, we need to talk."

Lucy looked up from her well-worn copy of _Pride and Prejudice _(the book she took out when she needed the most comfort) and looked Dally square in the eye. She tried to keep a blank expression on her face, but surely, he knew he'd just spoken the most terrifying sentence in human history.

"Yes?" she asked.

"I been thinkin'," he said and pulled up one of the kitchen chairs to sit across from his wife, "you been to New York before, ain't ya?"

Lucy nodded. Every time she thought she knew where her husband was going, he would surprise her again.

"Yeah," she said. "Lynnie and I used to go with our families when we'd visit Connecticut in the summer. But it's been a really long time."

"That's what I thought. It's a cryin' shame, too."

"Why's that? Thought you only had bad memories of Brooklyn."

Dally clenched his fists and tried not to take it out on Lucy (even though there was an unsightly part of him that wanted to). He _did _only have bad memories of Brooklyn. There were some memories so bad he'd never tell Lucy a word of them, even if she begged to know what was going on inside that head of his. When she told him she'd only gotten into NYU for graduate school, and she'd need to move to New York for the degree, he hadn't even thought about staying behind or leaving her. After almost five years, he wouldn't leave Lucy for anything. But he'd be lying if he said there weren't nights where he would lie awake, wondering what fresh hell the city would bring for him now that he was all grown up. He'd left once, and he hoped to whatever God might be above him that he wouldn't leave this time. He couldn't do that to Lucy, even if there was part of him that wanted nothing more than to stay in Tulsa.

He took a breath and unclenched his fists.

"Well, then, 's a good thing we're movin' to Manhattan," Dally said. "I got pretty OK memories of that place."

"Like what?" Lucy asked.

"Like places to go and fuckin' eat man."

"You know, most of us simplify what you just said and call them _restaurants_."

"You think you're so fuckin' funny."

"I know I am, but I'll accept what you said as a compliment and move on."

He snorted, which was the only (and therefore best) way he knew how to cover up a laugh. He'd always thought Lucy was witty as hell, but he be damned if he let her know that. Of course, he figured he'd be damned either way (He was still Dallas Winston, after all, even if he _was _Dallas Winston with a wife, a kid, and a home.). It didn't matter either way, and a part of him knew that. Lucy could see right through him – always could. A part of him didn't care.

_None _of him cared.

"Do you think you could tell me?" Lucy asked, which took Dally aback. He furrowed his brow at her.

"Tell ya what?" he asked. "I swear, sometimes, you make no fuckin' sense."

"I know," she said. "I guess … I guess it was kind of already in my head, and I forgot you weren't in my head, too."

Dally stuffed his hands in his pockets and squeezed the inseams of his jeans. It was about all he could do to keep from reacting. It was the most thoughtful thing anyone had ever said to him. He just couldn't let Lucy know that, even if she _was _Lucy.

"Well, out with it," Dally said, still clutching the inseams of his jeans. "I ain't got all day."

"We're married," Lucy said dryly. "You have all day, everyday."

Dally made no reply. As usual, Lucy was too right to fight with.

"Anyway," she said. "I guess … can you tell me something that happened in Brooklyn?"

And even though he didn't want to, Dally turned stark white. He finally let his hands out of his pockets and sat down next to Lucy. She closed her book, and he smirked a bit. It was a big deal for Bennet to put down her book.

"C'mon," he said. "You know I ain't like that."

"You're not like what?" Lucy asked.

"I ain't like the kinda guy who sits around tellin' sob stories to his wife, man. That ain't me. You know that."

"But why _can't_ it be you? We've been married five years."

"Not quite."

Lucy sucked in a breath. She didn't want to admit it, but she felt that way sometimes, too. Like she was just counting down the days until one of them woke up and realized these were not the people they were supposed to be. She let the breath go, thinking about what her father had said two days earlier. Their Tulsa journeys were over. So, then, were the expectations for the people they had to be in Tulsa. That was the great thing about moving to New York. They could be anything.

Something in Dally's eyes, however, suggested that he didn't believe that.

"Well, semantics," Lucy said, and Dally almost laughed, thinking back to when they were younger and even dumber. "Either way. You don't have to keep this stuff from me. I've been hauled in, too, you know."

"Yeah, 'cause you gettin' hauled in for beatin' the shit out of a young Republican's the same as me gettin' hauled in for just about everything else."

"The point is, I'm not some … frail, innocent waif."

"No, but you ain't a criminal mastermind, either, so don't pretend like y'are."

Lucy sighed. She leaned in closer and just stared into her husband's eyes for a moment or two. He furrowed his brow. Damn confounding woman. She could piss the hell out of him with those eyes. He could piss the hell out of himself for letting her.

"Things aren't the way they used to be," Lucy said.

"I don't know what you mean," Dally said.

"Yes, you do. You're smarter than almost anyone I've ever known."

"Almost anyone?"

"Well, yes."

"You're countin' yourself among people you know, ain't ya?"

Lucy grinned, and Dally almost smiled, too. Sometimes, even a damn confounding woman was predictable as a segment on _Love, American Style_.

"I _am _getting a Ph.D., if you remember," she said, still refusing to let up with that grin.

"Yeah, yeah, I remember," he said. "Takin' me back to a place that threw me out."

That, of course, was when Lucy's grin fell. Dally breathed in, and he didn't particularly care whether or not he breathed out.

"See, that's what I'm talking about," she said. Her playful tone was completely gone, and he hated that. "You say New York threw you out, but that's not the story I remember hearing. You told me once that you chose to come back to Tulsa around the same time my parents and I moved here. You told me that you went to the Curtis place after your father wouldn't let you back into your house …"

"Bennet …"

"And you told me that Soda was the one who let you in when you finally got back home, but …"

"Lucy!"

Lucy gasped a bit. It wasn't the first time Dally had referred to her by her first name, but he hadn't done it very often (and certainly not in her very recent memory). For him to call her _Lucy _like that meant … well, she wasn't sure what it meant, but it certainly felt heavy.

"I'm sorry," she said, though she wasn't exactly sure what she needed to be sorry for.

"Yeah, ya should be," Dally said. "I ain't real, real crazy about relivin' one of the hardest nights of my fuckin' life. Thought you knew that."

Lucy took a deep breath. She knew she probably should have walked away. She should have given Dally the time to gather himself. He was the kind of person who needed a lot of time to himself. But she didn't do that. She was the kind of person who wanted things as soon as she wanted them, and she couldn't give this up. She wouldn't.

"I'm sorry," she said again, and she meant it. "I won't … I won't make you think about that night anymore."

"Fuckin' good," Dally said, and he started to stand up. He should have known, of course, that it wouldn't be that easy. After all, this was Lucy Bennet he was dealing with, and she wouldn't be happy until she made things much, much harder than they ever needed to be.

"Will you at least answer one question?" she asked.

He closed his eyes in frustration and sat back down. He looked at her, wishing to high heaven that he could get angry with her, but he just couldn't. He'd been with her for too long (and in love with her for too long before that). It was too hard to walk away – too hard not to give in. You couldn't fight Lucy Bennet, even if you were Dallas Winston. She didn't know how to lose.

"What?" he asked.

"Are you worried about moving back to New York because you're worried you'll fuck up and do something you shouldn't?" Lucy asked, but Dally could tell by the tone of her voice that she wasn't finished. "Or are you worried about moving back to New York because you're worried about Elenore?"

Dally's lips turned into a thin white line.

"Why would I…?" he started, but it was no use. Lucy had already figured him out. Lucy was always figuring him out.

"So, I know the kid's only three," he said. "But I was three once, too, ya know."

"I don't know if I do know that," Lucy said. "But go on."

"I was born in shit. When I left my old man's house, I just got myself into more shit. And then when I came back to this shithole …"

Lucy almost smiled. She wouldn't make him say it. She knew.

"Well, point is, we made somethin' OK for ourselves here," Dally said. "And I know it sounds fuckin' crazy, since I ain't supposed to care … but I was kind of OK with Elenore growin' up here. Where she knows people. People she can … I dunno, people she can count on. I guess I kinda almost liked that she was gonna have that. I didn't, so I guess I wished …"

He stopped himself, knowing he'd already gone too far. Lucy put her hand on top of his and brushed his knuckles. He wouldn't let on, but it was a good feeling.

"New York ain't no place for a kid, I'm gonna tell ya that," Dally said.

"The world isn't a place for a kid," Lucy said. "Nowhere is really _that _safe. What? You think if Elenore grew up here, where our friends grew up, and she'll be any safer?"

"At least she'll have friends, Bennet."

"She'll still have them. Even if they're here. And she'll make new friends in New York. For crying out loud, man. She's only three."

Dally looked at Lucy, and she knew. She'd known for a long time that they were talking about more than just Elenore. She took his hand in hers and squeezed. When he didn't tense or put up any kind of fight, Lucy knew. He needed this.

"Kids ain't born lookin' to get up to shit," Dally said. "I know our kid sure as hell wasn't. But that don't mean … 'f we get her livin' in a place that's as rough as New York, I don't know _what _she's gonna turn out like."

_And I don't want that life for her_, he thought, but he couldn't bear to say something so vulnerable out loud, even if the only person in that room was Lucy. It didn't matter if he said it, anyway. Lucy could always hear what he was thinking. She squeezed his hand again. He still didn't put up a fight.

"Look," Lucy said. "I'm going to tell you something you already know."

"Tomato's a fruit? Gotta admit, I was pretty fuckin' surprised when your old lady told me that one."

"No, not that. Though it's true."

"Still can't believe it."

Lucy snorted, amused. And here, she couldn't believe Dallas Winston had just said a thing like that (And yet, she could.).

"Elenore's going to be fine, no matter where she goes," Lucy said. "I know we'd all be …"

Dally narrowed his eyes at Lucy, and she knew she couldn't say it. She still couldn't say _happy _in front of him. She let go of his hand.

"Look, it'd be easier for everybody if we just stayed here," Lucy said. "I know Elenore's already confused that she's not going to see my parents and Sadie everyday. I know it's just going to get worse once we're actually there."

She took a sudden deep breath in. What was the date? May 9. She had less than a week. She had less than a week to congratulate her cousin on marrying her friend. She had less than a week to finish packing up the apartment she loved so much – to say goodbye to the bookstore and the job she'd loved, too. She had less than a week to …

She gulped. It was too much to think about Sadie.

"But Elenore's going to be fine," Lucy said. "She's not going to find herself hanging out with the wrong crowd. That's just not how it works, and you have to know that. Don't you?"

"I've seen what it's like for a kid out there, Bennet," Dally said. "I've got proof of what it was like."

"But it's not the same. Do you know why?"

"Fuckin' tell me, 'cause I don't."

Lucy took Dally's hand in hers again. She didn't care if he was going to try to play tough. He needed it. When he laced his fingers through hers, almost like he didn't know what he was doing, she squeezed harder than she had been.

"Because no matter where Elenore goes," Lucy said, "she's going to have _you_."

Dally breathed in through gritted teeth. He should have known Bennet was going to say something stupid like that. It was just like her to get sentimental on him. After all, she was the broad who kept empty tubes of lipstick in her underwear drawer with some dumb memory or another attached to each one. He let go of her hand again.

"I ain't the best guy to have around," he said. "Think about who I was when you met me, man."

"You were bad," Lucy said. "But you weren't evil."

Dally cocked his eyebrows. It was the first time he'd heard anything like that from anyone before (including Bennet).

"What?" he asked. His voice was hushed with surprise.

"You heard me," Lucy said. "You were bad. You made more than a few unwelcome advances toward me … of course, you and I both realize now that they were a little more welcome than I may have suggested …"

"I fuckin' knew it."

"We're _married_."

"But we weren't then. I fuckin' knew it."

Lucy rolled her eyes.

"You were bad," Lucy repeated. "You got into really awful fights. Sometimes for good reasons. Other times for … less good reasons. You could be such a prick, ya know?"

Dally almost smiled again. Bennet almost never slipped into his dialect, but it was funny when she did. She must have noticed it, too, because she covered her lips like she'd just tasted something she wasn't supposed to eat (but didn't hate, either).

"But you were never evil," Lucy said. "You care too much about your friends to be evil. You care too much about your sister. And don't you give me any shit about how you were a bad brother for leaving Violet behind the first time you went to New York on your own. It wasn't your proudest moment, but you were an eleven-year-old kid who didn't know love from a hole in the ground. You didn't have the time or the space to make very many proud moments before then."

Dally paused and thought on that for awhile. He'd never heard anyone describe him that way before – not even her. He'd always been pretty OK with words and stuff (better than Pony liked to give him credit, that was for sure), but he'd never really thought about a difference between _bad _and _evil_. When he thought about it, he supposed the difference was that if you were bad, you liked knocking down a sandcastle on the beach because it was fun to see something fall down. But if you were evil, you beat up the kids who built it. He'd done the evil thing before (when he was a kid himself), but he'd never felt quite right after doing it. He always felt like it was what he had to do even if it made him feel worthless afterward. He was worthless, anyway. That was what the old man had always said, so why should he have believed anything else?

And then, Lucy Bennet believed something else. And she, the arrogant broad with brown hair and too many fucking books, believed it aggressively. She was so aggressive about it that he started to see himself differently, too.

But what gave him the right to see himself as anything other than a no-count hood? What gave him the right to think he was any different as a twenty-two-year-old man than he was when he was a good-for-nothing kid, acting up to impress the big dogs or to get his old man's attention? What gave him the right to think that New York would be different this time?

"You've done a lot of good since you came back to Tulsa," Lucy said. "I mean, think on it, won't you? You made amends with Violet. You went to jail for Two-Bit so he could keep taking care of Katie, and you barely even knew Katie. You looked after Johnny, and I know he's still grateful for that. I really do."

Lucy kissed his shoulder, and he didn't flinch. It was kind of nice to have her there.

"You married me, and I think it was a little more than a dare," she said (but more like whispered). "You had Elenore, and you stuck around for her. She …"

But Lucy swallowed instead. They both knew it would be too much if she said what she was thinking, even if it was true.

"Well, you mean a lot to your daughter," Lucy said. "You're not a fuck-up. You're not a saint, either, but you knew that. You're just … well, you're just Dally. And just because you're Dally doesn't mean you can't change what that was always _supposed _to mean."

He didn't say anything. He got the point. Instead, he just grabbed Lucy's hand.

"Nobody's going to get mixed up in any shit just because of where we're going," Lucy said. "Not you, not me, and certainly not Elenore. It's not New York that has any power on who we are. It's …"

She didn't finish. Dally already knew where she was going. That was the good thing about having the same husband since you turned eighteen. He could read your mind better than you could read your own.

"Well, you get the picture," she said. "Now, can we talk about something important?"

"Like what?" Dally asked.

"I don't know. You're the one who came in here talking about New York restaurants."

And without a care in the world, Dally smiled. Lucy didn't smile back. She didn't want him to know she'd noticed for fear that the moment would be good as quickly as it happened.

"Well, first thing ya gotta know," he said. "Little Italy ain't as good as you think it's gonna be."

"Tell me more."

* * *

"Don't panic, but there's something you should know."

Darry looked up from his cup of coffee and cocked a concerned eyebrow at Lynnie.

"What?" he asked. "Is there somethin' wrong with Jimmy? Where is he?"

Lynnie, luckily, shook her head and sat down across from Darry at the dining room table.

"Jimmy's fine," she said. "He's in his room, playing with the toy trains my aunt and uncle got him for Christmas."

Darry bristled, and Lynnie immediately wished she'd left that detail out. Jimmy had been wanting those particular toy trains for months before Christmas, and Darry broke his back trying to save up enough money to get them. In the end, they were just too expensive, and Jack and Esther Bennet stepped in to provide for their great nephew. Darry hadn't said anything, but Lynnie knew how much it hurt him that he couldn't get those toy trains for Jimmy. She knew how much it hurt him that Jack and Esther had been the ones who could afford them. Darry loved Jack and Esther like they were his own aunt and uncle, but being able to do things without their help was a point of pride for him. It was like when they'd offered to buy the Curtis siblings a new couch to replace the one they'd been sitting on since Ponyboy was a kid. Darry wouldn't go for it. He wanted to be able to do things by himself. That was what his parents had wanted for him, too, and he'd be damned if he didn't live up to their expectations. Somewhere, they were around to see it.

"Well, anyway," Lynnie tried to recover (poorly, she knew). "He's fine. He's happy as a clam, whatever the hell that means."

"Happy as a lark always made more sense to me," Darry said. "But I ain't your cousin Lucy, so somethin' tells me we ain't here to talk about figures of speech."

Lynnie took a deep breath.

"You're right," she said on the exhale. "We're here to talk about when I tucked Jimmy into bed last night and he asked if Dad had to work tomorrow."

Darry scrunched up his face in confusion.

"Dad, like Big Jim?" he asked and almost meant it.

But Lynnie shook her head again.

"Dad, like you," she said.

Darry felt like all the wind had been knocked out of him. It wasn't a bad feeling – just a surprising one. And here, he'd thought he was going to have to sit Jimmy down sometime after the wedding to really explain what was going on and how he really felt about having them all in the same house as one big family. After he got some of his air back, he couldn't help but feel relieved. Jimmy had already figured it out for himself.

"It's bizarre," Lynnie said, wringing her hands like she needed to apologize for something. "He's five years old, and he's known you since right after he turned three. I thought he would have started referring to you as _Dad _before now, so when he didn't, I figured he was going to stick with calling you Darry for the rest of forever. And I was OK with that, really, so please don't think I forced the issue. He came up with this all on his own."

"I believe you," Darry said, and he did. Lynnie had always been adamant that what Jimmy chose to call Darry needed to be his choice and his choice alone. They'd never tried to influence him one way or the other. But Lynnie made a good point. Now that Jimmy was five, he seemed pretty set in his ways. Darry was relieved to learn he wasn't set in them after all.

"I didn't know what to say, so I just kissed him goodnight," Lynnie said. "I needed to talk to you about it, but I didn't need to stress you out. There's enough going on in our lives right now. For one thing, you're still trying to convince my aunt and uncle not to buy us a cake for the wedding."

"You think I should take them up on their offer?" Darry asked.

"I think they're going to press the issue until even _you _break," Lynnie said. "And trust me. Lucy doesn't know it, but she's more like Esther than she thinks. My Aunt Esther has a _strong _will."

Darry laughed a little.

"What a family I'm marryin' into," he said.

"You're telling me," Lynnie said. "And speaking of family … what do you think we should do about Jimmy?"

Darry sighed, but it wasn't an unpleasant sigh. Lynnie was confused as he got up from the table and headed off toward their bedroom without a word. She leaned back in her chair and tried to listen for what he must have been doing. She heard him ruffle through what sounded like papers (_Papers? What was Darry doing with papers?_), and then a drawer shut. He came back into the dining room with papers in his hands, though Lynnie couldn't make out what they were.

"What's that?" she asked.

"That's what we're gonna do about Jimmy," he said.

"Those better not be the applications to fancy European boarding schools," Lynnie said.

"Does it look like I can afford a fancy European boarding school?"

"You might dip into your savings if you were really panicked about the fact that another man's child referred to you as _Dad_."

"Does it look like I have savings?"

Then, it was Lynnie's turn to sigh. Darry couldn't help but chuckle to himself. Lynnie sure was cute when she was exasperated. He could go his whole life looking at her like that. He was lucky he was about to.

"Darry," she said. "Just show me the damn papers."

"Fine," Darry said and handed the papers to Lynnie without a fight. "Here ya go."

Lynnie took the papers from Darry's hands and read them. Before long, the nonchalant expression on her face turned to one between glee and sadness. She whirled around in her cheap chair and looked at Darry again, a few tears coming out of her eyes. Darry couldn't help but beam.

"Are you kidding me?" she asked. Her voice wobbled.

"I ain't a jokin' kinda man," Darry said. "So I think you can safely say the answer's no. I ain't kiddin' you, Lynnie."

"You want to adopt Jimmy?"

Darry beamed even brighter and nodded his head slowly up and down. To the surprise of none, Lynnie leapt from her chair and threw her arms around his neck. He hugged her back and carefully snatched the papers back from out of her hands.

"Now, wait a second," he said between laughs. "Don't wreck the papers 'fore we can sign 'em."

After smacking her lips against Darry's one last time, Lynnie sat back down in her chair, tears still running down her cheeks without any shame.

"I don't believe this," she said. "We haven't really talked about you adopting Jimmy in … well, in ages. I thought when he still hadn't called you _Dad _after living in this house for a year that you'd given up."

Darry frowned and sat back down across from Lynnie.

"Given up?" he asked. "You think I'm the kinda guy who'd just give up? On a kid, no less?"

"No, no. Those … those weren't the right words. I just didn't really foresee you wanting to call another man's child yours after the child didn't seem to claim you."

But Darry shook his head like Lynnie was crazy.

"Aww, don't think that way," he said. "Listen. I ain't the kind of guy who gives up on much, especially if one those _much _things is a kid. And I love your son. You know how much I love him."

Lynnie nodded, feeling the tears well up in her eyes again. She thought of all the times Jimmy and Darry ran around with each other in the front yard. Darry would teach Jimmy how to play football, but Jimmy wouldn't really let him. He was much more interested in running until he couldn't go on (and even then, he'd find a second wind). She thought of all the times she'd walk into Jimmy's room, only to find Darry sitting in the chair next to his bed, reading the same copy of _Blueberries for Sal _with which Sadie taught Ponyboy how to read all those years ago. There was no doubt in anyone's mind that Darry was Jimmy's father – had been since Lynnie and Jimmy showed up in town, pretty much. Lynnie started to cry again.

"Right around the time I asked you to marry me, I decided all on my own that I didn't give a damn if Jimmy wanted to call me _Dad_," Darry continued. "I knew I was his dad, and I think he knew it, too. I love your son, Lynnie. I love him so much I want him to be my son, too."

Lynnie inhaled sharply and then let out a laugh.

"What?" Darry asked, breaking some of that Superman resolve he'd worked so hard to build up for this conversation.

"Nothing," Lynnie said. "It's just … I've been around long enough to be able to tell when Ponyboy writes a speech for you or Soda."

When Darry's ears turned bright pink, Lynnie knew she'd caught him. She threw her head back and laughed. All the sentimental tears went away.

"You don't know that," Darry said. He was almost yelling, which Lynnie interpreted as his defense. She decided she would keep laughing louder and louder until he admitted it.

"My brother is the king of poetic cheese," Darry said. "You know I know better than to ask someone so cheesy."

"So, you're admitting you talked to _someone_?" Lynnie asked, still roaring with laughter. It was the only thing that kept her from crying like a fool.

"I'm admitting nothin'."

"But you should. If you don't, I'm going to laugh until we die."

"Your muscles will wear you out quick. I can wait."

That, of course, was when Lynnie's laugh grew shrill. Darry groused. Lynnie Jones was a winner, all right. Not even Superman could put up with a shrill giggle for longer than a few seconds. He let out a long sigh.

"Fine!" he said. "I told Pony that I was adoptin' Jimmy, and I wanted to say somethin' to you that meant somethin' when I finally told you what I wanted to do. He wrote that. I knew it wasn't the best … but c'mon. 'F I asked Lucy, she'd have made it about Freud, and that ain't better. 'S a matter of fact, I might even say it's worse. Your cousin's psycho-whatever is worse than my brother's cheese. How do ya like that?"

Lynnie stood up again and quickly kissed Darry's lips. He blushed. In six days, they'd be married, but he wasn't sure he could ever really get used to how cute Lynnie could be.

"I like _you_," Lynnie said. "And I'm thrilled that you wanna make Jimmy your son, too. I'm not thrilled that ya sounded like a cheesy soap opera star when ya told me, but I'm glad you're gonna be his dad."

Darry grabbed Lynnie's shoulders and kissed her full on the mouth. When he let go and looked into her eyes, she felt suddenly that something was very wrong. Her blood pumped as she asked him what it could have been.

"Look, I was gonna wait until after the wedding," Darry said. "I was gonna wait for a lot of reasons. I didn't want to wreck your last summer with Lucy now that she's movin' to New York, for one thing. I know that's hard enough on you."

"But what's hard on me about you adopting my son?" Lynnie asked. "You've been his father for two years already. This is the natural order of things. Are you upset because that was supposed to be your wedding present to me, and now you have to come up with something else?"

And even though Darry wanted to laugh, he couldn't. Lynnie's skin got colder as she wondered what was going on behind Darry's stormy eyes.

"What?" she asked. Her voice wobbled again, but this time, there was no happiness behind it.

"Look, baby, it ain't easy to adopt a kid, even if it should be," Darry said. "I been talkin' to a lot of people about it. And it looks like it'd be pretty easy to adopt Jimmy 'f you never listed a father on the birth certificate or if Big Jim died or somethin'."

"So, what?" Lynnie asked. "You want to kill Big Jim? I'm not a killer, but I'm pretty sure we could pay Dally to take care of a few things."

Darry shook his head, and Lynnie felt the dread spread to every inch of her heart. She already knew where Darry was headed, but she decided she wanted to live in denial for just a second longer.

"Lynnie, you gotta face it," Darry said. "Big Jim ain't dead, and he ain't gonna die in the next couple of months or years, either. He's on the birth certificate even if he ain't never been a real dad to Jimmy."

"And?"

"And you know what this means," Darry said. "If I'm gonna adopt Jimmy, and if he's really gonna be my son, once and for all … I gotta get Big Jim to sign and approve."

Lynnie closed her eyes tightly and then opened them again.

"But that means …" she said, but she couldn't finish.

Darry nodded.

"We're gonna have to meet up with Big Jim," he said.

Lynnie's heart dropped into her knees. And here, she thought she was living in a dream. She should have known. Once you had Big Jim, there was no getting rid of him – not really. She let a stale laugh leave her lips. It was about all she could do to cope.

"How are we gonna handle this one?" she asked.

Darry didn't know, but he_ did _know it wouldn't do either of them any good if he said so. Instead, he grabbed Lynnie around her waist and pulled her close to his chest. They'd work it out. He knew it. It was just going to get to Lynnie's heart for a little while. As he held her close, he remembered that her big heart was one of the things he liked best about her – one of the reasons she belonged in their family and in their house. He looked toward the ceiling.

He wondered what his mama would think of him now.

* * *

"C'mon, just ask me."

"I don't want to! This game's gettin' outta hand. I just told you that I swiped a Bobby Vinton record from the store when I was a teenager … and I _liked it_. I never woulda told somebody about that if not for this little game you made up."

Laura Lubbock took a long, purposeful sip of her vanilla milkshake, eyeing Two-Bit suspiciously as they sat across from one another in their favorite booth at Jay's. When she let up off her straw, she smirked.

"It's not a game I made up," she said. "It's _Truth or Dare_. It's an old game. Surely, you've played it."

"Oh, I've played somethin' like it," Two-Bit said. "Except with the guys, it was always just _Dare_, and one of us usually ended up in jail. Mostly Dally."

"Well, we're not kids, and I'm not the guys," Laura said. "And when you play the game with me, it's _Truth or Dare_."

"But what's the result, huh? What am I supposed to get outta this?"

"We're just supposed to know each other better. It's fun. It's a good game to play with somebody you like a lot."

"Maybe even love?"

"Oh, definitely maybe even love."

Two-Bit winked at Laura and suddenly became very aware of the song that was playing in the background of the restaurant. It was that "Duke of Earl" song that had been popular when he was real young and then came back in style when he was in high school. He remembered how often it used to play at the very same restaurant and in the very same booth. He remembered how when it got real popular for the second time, Lilly Cade had been about twelve years old. She _loved _that song. Whenever it would come on, she would try to make her voice low and deep like the singer's, but the problem was that Lilly was little then. When she was twelve, she had a voice like Minnie Mouse. That always made everybody laugh, but nobody laughed harder than Two-Bit. He thought Lilly was a real stitch when she tried to get low like that. He _still _thought she was a stitch, even in his memory. But then, he shook his head. He wasn't sure why he'd thought of Lilly in that moment with Laura. He just had.

"Alright," Two-Bit said. "Truth or dare, Laura."

"Dare," Laura said with the cutest purse of her lips.

Two-Bit picked up a fry from his plate and held it out in front of a confused Laura. He smirked. When she was confused, that cute purse of her lips got even cuter.

"I dare you," he said, "to stick this fry in my sister's apron, right now, while she's workin'."

Laura laughed, still confounded.

"That's really not much of a dare," she said.

"Would you rather strip naked and dance in front of this whole crowd? 'Cause that's my other offer."

Laura rolled her eyes sweetly and plucked the fry out of Two-Bit's hand. As she scampered off to annoy Katie, Two-Bit sat back and noticed that the music had changed again. This time, they were playing that Alex Chilton song, the one about the baby who wrote the guy a letter. He smiled to himself but tried to conceal the smile in his burger. He didn't want Laura to come back and notice something she shouldn't have. He thought about the way Lilly used to try to sing that song, too. She'd yell for a few minutes and see if her voice got gruff enough to be Alex Chilton, but it never was. She used to do that all the time in the months leading up to the day he shipped out to Vietnam. He paused and took a long time before he swallowed his food. It had been two years, and he'd almost forgotten how much time he spent with Lilly back then. He'd almost forgotten what he said to her before he left. He'd almost forgotten how he broke her heart the day he came back home.

But then, Laura scampered back to her seat and slid down into the booth, very unladylike, very cool. Two-Bit supposed it didn't matter if he'd broken Lilly's heart. If he hadn't done that, he never would have met Laura. And there was maybe nobody out there he could love more than Laura.

"OK," Laura said. "I think I confused her."

"Wouldn't be surprised," Two-Bit said. "Katie's a sweet kid, real, but she can be real slow on the uptake, especially when she's at work."

He thought about the day he noticed that Lilly Cade had a quick wit. Why was he thinking about Lilly Cade? She wasn't even there, and the last time they talked, she'd given him some information about Lucy and Dally that he preferred not to have. He should be pissed at her, he thought. And yet, he wasn't. He just wished she'd walk through the door so he could see her and assure her that he wasn't mad. Did she think he was upset with her?

Why did he care?

"Alright, Lubbock," Two-Bit said. "Ask me."

"What?" Laura asked. "I thought you were done with this game."

"I had a change of heart. After seein' you put that fry in Katie's apron for no good reason, I realized how much fun this game could be. So, ask away. I'm all yours."

Laura looked at him like she expected more to come from that. He pretended that he didn't notice. She leaned forward and winked.

"OK," she said. "Truth or dare."

"Dare," Two-Bit said. "I wanna put a fry in my sister's hair."

"You don't just get to _choose _your dare."

"Who said?"

"The rules."

"Where are they written?"

"Somewhere."

"Trick question! I don't need to see 'em. I ain't ever followed a set of rules a day in my life. When my old lady finally saved up enough dough for a television set a few years back, she asked for my help readin' the instructions. Didn't follow 'em. Ended up buildin' a radio."

Laura laughed. She had such a high, pretty laugh. It sounded almost familiar.

"OK," she said. "If that's how you're going to play, this is how I'm going to play. I _dare _you to tell me your romantic history with _all _the girls you grew up with."

Two-Bit felt his face turn whiter than Laura's vanilla milkshake. He should have known she'd want to ask a question like this. As much as he loved her, she was the kind of girl who liked to know about these things. She was the kind of girl who liked to measure herself up against other girls, despite her better judgment. Instinctively, Two-Bit knew that wasn't a good thing. He'd grown up around enough girls to know that. But he also knew it was hard to resist competing with other people, especially for attention. Any time he overheard Lilly talking to Katie about her most recent one-time conquest, he found himself wanting to ask what the guy looked like and how he earned his cash.

"Well," he said, "I think it's safe to say ya know my answer about Katie."

"Pretty safe," Laura said. "But what about the rest? What about Lucy and Sadie and all them?"

Two-Bit sighed. These were questions he hadn't thought about in years, and he didn't look forward to revisiting them. But if it was what Laura wanted, it was what Laura would get. No matter what his history said, he loved her.

"Never looked at Sadie as more than Sadie," he said. "She's a real sweet girl, but she's Darry's kid sister. Darry's kid sister is outta bounds 'cause she's related to Darry, and he can pack a punch when he wants to. You'd be blind not to think Jane's pretty, but Steve's too much of a buddy to go after his kid sister like that. 'Sides, I knew Jane only ever had eyes for Soda since we was all real little kids. Couldn't get in the middle of that even 'f I wanted to. Carrie … well, I ain't never really thought too much about Carrie at all. Didn't even matter that she was Shepard's kid sister 'cause there was nothin' there to go on. She was just a little kid. A weird one, too. Her sister, Angela, though … well, I don't think any of us had the balls to try anything on Angela."

Laura nodded, as though this was some sage information she'd been waiting all her life to hear. Two-Bit thought it was strange (maybe even a little telling), but he pressed on. It felt good to purge, especially as he got closer to the end.

"What about Lucy?" Laura asked quietly.

"What about Lucy?" Two-Bit asked.

"Well, she's part of your group. She's the one who introduced us. I know her from classes at TU. I want to know. What about you and Lucy? Was that ever…?"

"I led Lucy on," he said, and Laura's eyes went wide. "Back in '65. She thought she had a thing for me for a couple of weeks, but she didn't. She had a big thing for Dally. Always did, even before Sadie and Soda dared 'em to get married after Dally turned eighteen. I never had a thing for her, though. I always thought she was real pretty – anybody could tell she's real pretty – but I never had a thing for her. But I knew that Dally wanted her bad, and I was pissed at Dally for takin' the fall for me after I broke the school windows. I dunno know why I'd be mad that somebody took the fall for me, so don't ask. And when I saw that Lucy thought she might like me a little bit … even though I didn't like her, I thought I had to pretend I did just to spite ole Dally. Finally felt like I could get back at him for … for whatever he did."

The truth was that Two-Bit felt like Dally stole what made him a real man by falling on a sword that wasn't even his to fall on. But he wasn't going to say that in front of Laura. He wanted Laura to think he was a real man, even if he knew he wasn't.

"Oh," Laura said, and Two-Bit wasn't sure what that meant.

"Yeah," he said (and made a note never to mention Violet).

"Well, you've got one more. What about Lilly?"

And then, it was like poetry or cinema or something, because Lilly Cade walked right through that door, just like Two-Bit had been wishing and hoping she would. As soon as he saw her, he wanted her _not _to be there anymore. He wished he'd never seen her. He wished he could control it, but his brain decided to play one of his favorite memories of Lilly. He remembered an hour in less than a second.

* * *

It was the day before Two-Bit shipped out, and he decided to spend it with Lilly. The two of them had been spending an awful lot of time together that spring and into the summer. It was July, a week and a half past Independence Day, when summer was starting to cool down, but the people living in it refused to let it go. He and Lilly were hanging out in the back row at the Dingo, pretending they were still kids.

But Lilly _was _still a kid. Two-Bit had just turned twenty, but Lilly was only seventeen. He thought on that for a minute as he handed her the Coke he'd just dropped a dime on, just for her, because she mentioned she might have been thirsty. She was older than she was before, but she was still _only seventeen_. The Beatles might have been rank. Didn't change the fact that they had a point.

"Oh, there you are," Lilly said. She was smiling brighter than the lights in the projection booth, and she looked lovely. She _was _lovely. She took the cup of Coke from Two-Bit's hand and gulped it down. Two-Bit couldn't help but grin at her for that. It was one of the things he liked best about Lilly. She might have wanted to be a pretty little thing, afraid to even swat at a fly, but that wasn't who she really was. She was as tough and as desperate as anybody. It was sure a sight.

"You didn't think I left ya here, did ya?" Two-Bit asked.

Lilly took the straw out of her mouth and swallowed harshly.

"I dunno," she said. "Wouldn't have been outta character."

Two-Bit took an odd breath. He tried to think of something to say, but there was nothing he could do. What do you even say to something like that, almost two years after the fact? Sorry I kissed you even though you weren't yet sixteen? Sorry for the rest of the night? Sorry for waking up, seeing you there, remembering who you were, and bolting like it never happened? He started to wrap his tongue around a response, but Lilly spoke instead. Two-Bit exhaled when he heard her voice again.

"Thank you," she said.

"You're welcome, Lil. Least I could do."

He shoved his hands in his back pockets, and Lilly twisted awkwardly beside him. They hadn't said a word about what the next day would bring, and Two-Bit was hoping neither of them would dare to bring it up. That would mean things were changing, and he didn't want that. The spring and the summer had brought enough change for the pair of them. He wasn't sure he wanted to admit to any more.

"You were always gettin' me stuff at the concession stand at the movies," Lilly said. Her voice was far away – wistful, maybe. "Remember when I was little, and you swiped a box of popcorn for me during _Snow White and the Seven Dwarves_?"

Two-Bit laughed, a little deflated.

"Yeah," he said. "You were so upset, but I know how hard Johnny worked to find the right amount-a change to get tickets for the two of ya. I didn't want to upset him, but I didn't want you to cry. I always hated to see you cry. Maybe more'n seein' Katie or the other girls cry."

Lilly turned to him, surprised.

"Really?" she asked. "Why?"

Two-Bit shrugged.

"Dunno," he said. "I guess … I dunno, I guess I never got why anybody else ever had a reason to cry. Sadie had her folks and her brothers. 'Course, she ain't much of a crier, considerin' she's Darry's sister and all that. Katie's my sister, so I gotta give her shit. 'S my job as her big brother."

"Naturally," Lilly agreed. "It's my job as her best friend, too."

"Yeah," Two-Bit laughed a little. "Jane … I dunno, I always thought Jane was a little bit of a drama queen when we was kids, 'f I'm bein' honest, which I almost never am, unless … well, whatever. And Carrie … well, I ain't never thought too much about Carrie."

Lilly nodded.

"I dunno," Two-Bit said again. "And I don't mean to sound like I pity ya, Lilly, but …"

He looked at her, and by the way she narrowed those pretty brown eyes, he knew he wasn't going to save himself from the hole he'd dug this time.

"I can't win this, can I?" he asked.

"Not really, no," Lilly said, but at least she was laughing. "But for what it's worth, I know what you mean."

"You do?"

"Well, yeah. I think … when you look at me, you see more than just Johnny's pain-in-the-ass kid sister, right? Like … I'm just Lilly."

And perhaps against his better judgment (which he almost never used when it came to Lilly Cade, anyway), Two-Bit nodded.

"Yeah," he said. "You're just Lilly."

Lilly sighed, but she sounded strangely content.

"And besides," she said. "I should hope ya see me differently now that we're on a date."

Two-Bit's eyes just about bugged out of his head.

"What?" he asked, choking on something, though he wasn't particularly sure of what.

"Aww, c'mon," Lilly said, sounding much more confident than Two-Bit had ever heard from her before. She sounded older … older than _seventeen_, even older than he was at twenty. "Think about it. We've been spendin' a lot of time together, and you've been payin' for stuff on account-a me. You ain't swiped a thing since we've been goin' out."

"We ain't goin' out!" Two-Bit said (because he felt he had to).

"Then whaddya call this? Whaddya call what we been doin'? Huh?"

When she asked, "Huh?" she sounded too much like her brother. Two-Bit shook his head and pretended he'd never heard that. He didn't want to think about Johnny when all he wanted was to think about Lilly. Unfortunately, growing up the way they all did, it seemed rather impossible to separate siblings from one another.

"I dunno," Two-Bit said. "I like you, Lil. Ya know I do. I like spendin' time with you."

"That seems to be somethin' of an understatement," Lilly said.

Two-Bit could always tell when Lilly had been spending a little too much time around Lucy Bennet and her vocabulary. He liked it. He liked when Lilly knew she owed it to herself to be smart.

"But we ain't on a date," he said. "We ain't never been on a date. Not even … well, you know what I'm talkin' about."

"That was almost two years ago," Lilly said. "I'm seventeen now. I'm startin' my last year of high school – and on time, as a matter of fact. I'll be eighteen before ya know it."

"And how do you even know I'll be alive by then?"

Both of their breaths hitched. They looked at each other, scared out of their wits. They hadn't made an agreement not to talk about what was going to happen the next day, but they may as well have. But it didn't matter anymore. Now that it was out, neither of them could force it back in. They'd have to talk about it.

"Look, there's a lotta stuff I ain't sure I can say," Two-Bit said, keeping his voice hushed, though for whose benefit, he didn't know. Maybe his own. "But since I'm leavin' tomorrow, and neither of us knows if I'm ever gonna come back …"

"Don't fuckin' talk like that," Lilly snapped.

"I ain't got another choice. Since neither of us knows if I'm ever gonna come back, I gotta tell ya."

He noticed how close Lilly was standing to him, and he grabbed her around the waist. Something in those pretty brown eyes of hers let him know, so he went for it, just as she was going for it, too. He kissed her for the first time since that night in the fall of '65 … something he'd been thinking about and wanting to do since then (and hating himself for it all the while). Maybe he shouldn't have been doing it. He knew he shouldn't have. But it was Lilly, and it was life and death on the same blurry horizon. He thought he might make one exception if it was the last time he was free enough to have an exception to make.

"That was better than I remember it," Lilly said. "And I remember it bein' good."

"Yeah," Two-Bit said, wiping his lips with some regret (and some distaste for the surprising bitterness of Lilly's drugstore lipstick). "Real good."

"Why'd you do it again if we ain't on a date?"

Two-Bit sighed.

"You can't tell anybody about this," he said, knowing full well that he was talking to Lilly Cade, a notorious gossip, "but I think, if I was stayin' around, I could fall in love with ya."

* * *

Two-Bit didn't want to remember very much after that. It was too awkward and too painful, especially with Laura making eyes at him from the opposite side of the booth.

"I love Lilly," he finally said. "But she's Johnny's sister, and she's my sister's best friend. It's kinda like Sadie. There's just some lines ya don't cross."

Laura nodded, but Two-Bit knew from the look in her eyes that she didn't buy it.

To make his life that much harder, Lilly walked over to their booth and stood in front of them. Laura grinned, and the falsehood hurt.

"Hey, Lilly," she said.

"Hey, Laura," Lilly said like the name left a bad taste on her tongue (which, of course, it did). "Hi, Two-Bit."

"What brings you over here?" Laura asked.

"Well, thought I'd grab a bite to eat in my best friend's section and give her a nice little tip," Lilly said. She looked at Two-Bit like he should know something, but he wasn't quite sure he did. It had been years since he was able to read any fraction of Lilly Cade's mind.

"Of course, Katie ain't got no open tables, and you're in my favorite booth," Lilly said.

Laura giggled, and the falsehood hurt even more.

"What a coincidence!" she said. "It's our favorite booth, too."

Two-Bit looked up from his plate and right at Lilly. He wondered if she remembered the time they'd sat there in the spring of '67, talking about what Lilly wanted to do after high school and singing along to "To Sir with Love" on the radio, trying to figure out whose voice was the most annoying.

He looked at her and tried to see if she was thinking the same thing, but he couldn't tell, because she wasn't looking back.

* * *

It was Jane's turn to make dinner at the Curtis house that night, but as soon as she decided to try to make chicken cutlets, there was a knock at the door. When she answered it, she was delighted to find Sadie, Johnny, and baby Michael, all wrapped up in Sadie's arms.

"Hey!" she said. "I was just makin' dinner, but I don't know if I got enough chicken for everybody. Jimmy's goin' through a phase where he'll only eat chicken and hamburger, and we're real tired of hamburger."

"'S OK, Jane," Sadie said. "We're gonna make dinner on our own, too. We just wanted to drop by because …"

She handed Michael over to Jane, who lit up so brightly when she took him into her arms that Sadie's heart broke.

"Jane!" Michael said.

"Well, because of that," Sadie said.

Jane laughed and looked up at Sadie and Johnny, wondering if she'd heard right.

"Is this real?" she asked, unable to wipe the smile off her face. "Is he real sayin' my name?"

"I was showin' him some pictures in that album Pony made for us after we got married," Johnny said. "I usually point to everybody one at a time, say our names and all that. This time, when he got to the picture of you right before your prom, he just said …"

"Jane!" Michael said again, like it was a joke, and only he understood the punch line.

"Well, he said that."

"That's amazing," Jane said. "I suppose it'd be a little much to start pushin' the _Aunt _before the _Jane_, but …"

"You'll take what you can get," Sadie said.

"I really will."

She stepped aside and tipped her head toward the living room, signaling for Johnny and Sadie to get out of the doorway and into the house. They followed her lead, and Johnny locked the door behind them. Jane noticed, but she didn't say anything.

"I gotta admit, it's nice to hear my name from a baby," Jane said. "I remember when Elenore said my name for the first time. Made me feel important. But this … Michael's my nephew. My real, live nephew. Just feels even more special this way, ya know?"

"I know," Sadie said. "When he called me _Mama _for the first time a few months back, I thought I might die. I was so happy. You remember that, Johnny?"

"Dunno how I could forget," Johnny said. "You cried for an hour or two. First time I ever saw the similarities 'tween you and Pony."

"The two of you should stay until Pony and Carrie get here," Jane said. "I know Pony's been missin' you. Both of you."

"We'll try," Sadie said. "But Michael's been gettin' real fussy the longer he stays outta the house. It's like, once five o'clock hits, he's done for the day. He's like an office worker who gives it his all, 'cept when it comes time to clock out."

"Do office workers clock out?" Johnny asked, genuinely not sure of the answer.

"Teachers sign in," Sadie said. "Other 'n that, I dunno. What does it say about the way we grew up around here that we don't know what kinda jobs clock in and out and which ones don't?"

"I think it says we're a buncha hard workers who get the job done," Jane said. "Sadie, can I give you Michael back? I really need to get started on the chicken, and I don't wanna end up cookin' him instead."

Sadie laughed and took Michael out of Jane's arms.

"Bye, Jane!" he said.

"Aww, bye, sweetie," Jane said. She looked at Sadie with a longing in her eyes that Sadie only knew now that she had a baby to call her own.

"It's nice to hear somebody's baby loves me," she said. "I mean, one of these days, I hope it comes from a baby of my own, but …"

She put her face in her palm, and Sadie's pulse quickened as she leaned forward to comfort poor Jane. Johnny noticed right away and took Michael out his mother's grasp and into his.

"Da," Michael said.

"Yeah, 's me," Johnny said. "We gotta give Mama a break while she talks to Aunt Jane, OK?"

"Why?"

"'Cause sometimes, grown-ups need your mama to be there for them, too."

Johnny looked at Sadie and the way she was so gentle, even with Jane, whose proclivity for drama could spark rage into the heart of the calmest man who ever lived. But Sadie never lost her cool. She never lost her ability to listen. It made Johnny fall in love with her all over again … but it made him feel sorry that she couldn't go to college and be a psychologist, after all. His heart clenched for her. He wondered if she was thinking the same thing.

"Hey," Sadie said. "You OK, Janie?"

Jane nodded and then shook her head.

"I don't know," she said. "Sometimes, I think so. Like a few days ago, me and Soda made some real breakthroughs. It was like … we talked, and we were honest with each other about what scares us and what's holdin' us back. It was the first time we talked like that where I didn't feel like I was tryin' to get one up on him or like he was tryin' not to listen to me just 'cause he can. It was like … it felt almost like how we used to talk, ya know? Before the war."

Sadie nodded, though she couldn't say she'd been so fortunate as to have a "normal" moment with her brother since he'd come back home.

"Yeah," she said. Her voice cracked a little, and she hoped Jane wouldn't notice. She knew, however, that Jane would. She was like that, which was why it was killing her not to have a baby of her own.

"But it's not like you can go from one real open conversation to bein' parents," Jane said. "I mean, you could. I'm not even sure my parents talked at all when they made me and Steve. But that ain't what I want for me and Soda, and I don't think it's what he wants, either."

"It's not," Sadie said. "He wants more for both of you. And if he doesn't think he's prepared enough to take care of a little one right now … well, Jane, me and you both know that's a good idea."

Jane closed her eyes in some acknowledgment.

"He's gettin' better, you know," Jane said. "I know _better _ain't the best word to use, since he ain't broken or nothin'. But he's feeling … he's feeling more comfortable, I think. He's startin' to remember it's OK to open yourself up again."

"I can only imagine how hard it must have been to go to Vietnam and be as open as Soda," Sadie said. "They must've walked all over him."

"Oh, he says they did."

Sadie's heart lurched with strange jealousy. Of course there were experiences and feelings that Soda should share with Jane that he didn't necessarily share with Sadie first – or with Sadie at all. It didn't change the fact that they'd grown up in the same house, with the same birthday, knowing the backs of each other's hands better than they knew their own. It didn't change the fact that it would always take some getting used to – knowing that they had spouses to run to before they could think about running to each other. You raise yourself a certain way, and the habits are hard to break.

"I think he's about ready to open up to you," Jane said.

"I'd be surprised," Sadie said.

"No, I mean it. You just gotta give him time. I know it's strange that the two of you haven't been quite so … connected … since he got back. For a little while there, I was even kinda glad."

And though Jane expected that to rip through Sadie like a grenade, she was shocked when Sadie just nodded. It was an uncomfortable nod, but it wasn't a fight. Jane felt at ease and a little bit disappointed. There would be no drama between herself and Sadie. Maybe they weren't those kids anymore, after all.

"I know," Sadie said. "You're his wife now. It's strange that he kept his twin sister in the loop for as long as he did."

"See, I used to think that," Jane said. "But the longer you two have got this wedge between ya, the more I hate it. I miss the way things used to be, Sadie. I miss when the two of you were joined at the hip like a couple-a freaks. Even if it drove me a little outta my mind, at least … well, at least we were all a little bit happy."

Sadie tried to smile, but she couldn't. The word stung too much. _Happy_. Was she? She was happy to be married to Johnny. Happy to be Michael's mama. She was happy that her twin brother was home from the war and that he'd been spared so much. She was happy to have her friends around. She was happy … except she wasn't. Soda was distant, and soon, Lucy would be, too. How could she be happy when so much she held dear was floating away and out of her control? She drew in a long, slow breath.

"Come in the kitchen with me," Jane said and put an affectionate hand on Sadie's shoulder. "You can help me make chicken."

Sadie finally breathed out and trailed behind Jane.

"Ya know," she said. "I still get a big kick outta you makin' chicken in my mother's kitchen."

"I hope she thinks well of me," Jane said.

"Janie, I know she does."

Jane dryly read out of the recipe book for Sadie, and though Sadie tried to pay attention to begin with, she became distracted by a noise at the door. Someone was pulling at the doorknob.

"Dammit," came a muffled, male voice from outside. Sadie's heart jumped into her throat, and she wished it wouldn't have done that.

_Soda_.

"Guess it's a good fuckin' thing I remembered my key," he said on the other side of the door.

Sadie listened to her brother fumble for his keys in his pockets. She almost giggled. Soda and Pony weren't too much alike, but when it came to keep tracking of their stuff, they were the twins. After almost a minute went by, Soda found his key and unlocked the door. When he walked into the house, it was almost like he didn't see the new Cades.

"Jane!" he said. "What's the door doin'? All locked up and shit?"

"Well, the door didn't lock itself, dear," Jane said. "Why don't you ask the other people in this house what happened to the door?"

Soda looked around and finally noticed that he and Jane weren't alone. He grew smaller as he turned to face Johnny. Sadie made note of the fact that he ignored her (or at least seemed to).

"I'm sorry, Johnny," he said, returning to the sweet voice he'd grown up with. "I didn't mean … just a long, real tough day. Sometimes I like to let it out."

"Aww, 's alright, man," Johnny said. "And I'm sorry about the door. I locked it. Can't help it. Got into the habit after me and Sadie moved in together. Guess I kinda felt like bein' farther from all of you meant lockin' the door to stay safe inside, ya know?"

Soda smiled, and it seemed so real. Sadie pressed her hands against her mouth, hoping this wasn't too good to be true.

"You ain't gotta explain," Soda said. "I'm just glad to see ya. 'S been awhile."

He walked closer to Johnny and Michael and put his hand on Michael's shoulder.

"Hey, Michael," he said. "Can you say _Soda _yet?"

"I don't know about that," Sadie finally announced herself. "But we brought him over here 'cause he learned how to say …"

"Jane!" Michael said, and Soda couldn't help but laugh. Sadie tried to contain her thrill so as not to scare anyone off. This seemed real. This seemed … it seemed like Soda.

Soda looked at Sadie and beamed.

"Well, he'll learn how to say my name sooner or later," Soda said. "He's gonna want a drink sooner or later, ain't he?"

Sadie was too happy to speak. She just nodded.

Soda walked over to her and waved her on. She furrowed her brow and followed him into the room that used to be hers.

"Soda?" she asked. "What're we doin' in Jimmy's room?"

But Soda wasn't looking at her. He was messing with the record player, looking for the right record to put on.

"This didn't used to be Jimmy's room, ya know," he said. "'F you remember, this room used to be yours."

"What are you…?"

Sadie didn't have time to ask the rest of that question. She heard the start of the song, and she threw her head back and laughed.

"_Cara Mia, why must we say goodbye? / Each time we part my heart wants to die_ …"

She clapped her hands together and almost jumped up and down.

"Soda!" she said. "Fuckin' Jay and the Americans!"

Soda came closer to Sadie and motioned to take her hand. She felt a little ridiculous, but she took his hand, anyway. She thought of what their mother had said before the dance in junior high – the one where Sadie got stood up. Their mother said that one day, Sadie would be sad she didn't dance with Soda more often. So, she did. She danced with her twin without a real word. Just laughing and singing and shouting, "Fuckin' Jay and the Americans!"

As the song slowed down, the Curtis twins found themselves hand in hand, swaying slowly together, more like twins than they had been for years. They looked up at each other, and at the same time, they realized … _something_. They weren't sure if there was a word for it, but it was there. It was there in both of their eyes.

"Hey," said Soda.

"Hey," said Sadie.

* * *

**Well, that didn't take terribly long! It was longer than I'd like, but still. Two updates in the same month on this fic isn't bad. I long for the days when I updated quickly.**

**Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter where nothing happens! The songs I mention in this chapter are "Duke of Earl" by Gene Chandler, "The Letter" by The Box Tops, and "Cara Mia" by Jay and the Americans, AKA Soda and Sadie's least favorite group.**

**Hinton owns **_**The Outsiders. **_**I own this big red blanket that I still need because it's chilly in my house **_**at the end of May**_**.**


	10. Chapter 10

"That's it!"

Dally came into the apartment and scared the living daylight out of Lucy, who was sitting at the kitchen table, writing. She was drafting a speech for Darry and Lynnie's wedding (the last time she and all of her friends and family would be together in the same place like that), but she knew she should have been writing a speech to just Sadie. Dally was a welcome distraction.

"Yes?" Lucy asked.

"This baby's too fuckin' old now," Dally said and took a distressed seat on the couch. "We need a different one."

That was enough to stop Lucy's heart. She slammed her journal shut and turned around in her chair to face Dally. She tried to determine whether or not he looked serious. Unfortunately, with Dally, this was one of the hardest tasks in the world. So, she just asked.

"Are you serious?"

"Well, I dunno know what ya mean by _that_," Dally said. "But I'll tell ya what. I just dropped that kid …"

"_Elenore_."

"Ya know who I mean, man. Well, I dropped her off at your folks' house, and lemme tell ya … she's even smarter than I thought."

Lucy laughed. That sounded like her girl.

"Oh, yeah?" she asked. "Tell me. What did she do?"

"Well, 'fore I left, I was lookin' over your dad's main bookshelf, see if there's anything I can burn through real quick before we go," Dally said. "Did you know I read every short book your old man's got in that house _and _in his office at TU?"

"He mentioned something to me," Lucy said. "You're a smart man, Dallas Winston."

"Don't ever say that again."

Lucy bit her lip to keep from laughing. She couldn't help it. It was the last thing he ever wanted to hear, but Dallas Winston was cute as hell.

"Well, I picked up some book that I think I never read, but turns out, I did," Dally said. "Wasn't that good. You know what I'm talking about?"

"You're talking about _The Pearl_ by John Steinbeck," Lucy said without missing a beat.

Dally cocked his thick eyebrows at Lucy, and she clapped her hands together in victory.

"How the fuck did you know that?" Dally asked, almost accusatory.

"You've been talking about how much you hate that book for years now," Lucy said. "You hate the characters. You hate the plot. You hate how Steinbeck talks about the doctor's fat fingers."

"Well, I'm fuckin' right, so shut the fuck up, and don't make fun of me."

"Shutting."

"So, I got the book out, talked to your old man about how it's a piece of shit, and _your daughter _…"

"She's _your daughter_, too, and her name is Elenore. But go on."

"_Elenore _comes runnin' down the hall and looks at the book. She looks up at the book, and then she looks at me. And she says, clearer 'n I ever heard anybody speak 'cept you and your folks, '_The Pearl _by John Steinbeck.'"

Lucy grinned from ear to ear.

"That's my girl," she said.

Dally threw his fist down on the couch and groaned unintelligibly.

"What the fuck, man?" he asked.

"I don't know what you're asking me to do!" Lucy said. "You mentioned that Elenore read something very advanced, and I expressed pride in _our daughter_. Isn't that a normal reaction for a mother, especially a mother like me, to have?"

"Yeah, it might be, if she weren't three fuckin' years old!"

"I don't follow."

"She's _three fuckin' years old_. That ain't old enough to be readin' _The Pearl _by John Steinbeck!"

"But she didn't read _The Pearl _by John Steinbeck. She read the title."

"Yeah! That shit's fuckin' weird, Bennet! She's _three_! Ya wanna know what words I had in my vocabulary when I was three?"

"Well, if I have to guess, I'll guess that most of them had four letters."

"They _all _had four letters 'cause I only knew two! And I used 'em both in a row just a few sentences ago!"

Even though she knew it was probably a bad idea, Lucy couldn't stop laughing. Dally, on the other hand, couldn't stop rolling his eyes. He couldn't believe Bennet wasn't getting his point about their freakish three-year-old daughter. Meanwhile, Lucy couldn't believe she lived in a world where Dallas Winston cared this much about his offspring, and he cared about her (and himself, really) so much that he was willing to talk casually about his sentence structure. He'd changed a lot since that dare of a wedding, and yet, he hadn't changed at all. He was exactly who he needed to be, and Lucy loved him for it.

"She's gettin' to be too old," Dally said, more to the ceiling than to Lucy, though Lucy couldn't help but listen. "She's three years old, and she can read the name _John Steinbeck_. What the hell kinda three-year-old can read the name _John Steinbeck_?"

"The kind of three-year old who's listened to her father complain about how much he hated _The Pearl _for all her life," Lucy said, again without missing a beat. Dally kept up with that. He loved how quick Lucy was on the uptake. She was the only woman in the world with a quick enough tongue to keep him happy. She was the only woman in the world with a quick enough tongue to ask him if he meant that literally or figuratively. And he was her perfect match, really, because he would have easily answered that it was both … much to her theoretical pleasure.

"Well, any fuckin' way," Dally said. "She's too old now. She's not learnin' things the way she used to. She knows everything now, and we're useless to her."

"She does not know _everything_," Lucy said. "She doesn't know that you were once a notorious hood around these parts of Tulsa."

"She'll learn that soon enough. And then, she _really _won't want anything to do with either of us."

Dally sighed, and it seemed out of his control. Out of instinct, Lucy got up from her chair and met Dally on the couch. She took his hand in hers, just as she had the day before. He put up no fight, just as he hadn't. It was a rhythm, and they had fallen comfortably into it. Dallas Winston had fallen comfortably into a rhythm with one woman for, seemingly, the rest of his days. Who could have seen that coming?

When she thought about it for a minute, of course, Lucy did.

"I have a feeling that Elenore is going to need us for a lot more than just reading the titles and the names of books," Lucy said. "Think about it. She only knew that one because you've talked about how much you hate it for so long. She didn't read it. She just saw the image of her father, holding a book he didn't appear to like, and she came to the logical conclusion. It's like how kids find out they're supposed to call us _Mom _and _Dad_. It's natural."

"It's less fuckin' natural than hearin' your three-year-old kid say _John Steinbeck_. I'm tellin' ya that."

Lucy sighed, exasperated. Maybe Dally had her there.

"Look, I hear you," she said. "Elenore's a bright kid. One of the brightest kids around, probably. What do you want me to do about it? Dumb her down?"

"No fuckin' way, man," Dally said. "I like that we got a smart kid. She's gonna get rich one day. Pay for me to quit workin' and take some time that's all mine."

"And mine," Lucy said.

"Eh, we'll see if I invite you along."

Lucy rolled her eyes.

"I'm kinda serious, though, man," Dally said. "She's gettin' too big. It's freakin' me out. 'F you really wanna do somethin' about my problem with Elenore gettin' big and growin' up, maybe you could really get me another one."

Lucy's heart stopped.

"Are you kidding me?" she asked.

"Naw, I don't think I am," Dally said.

"You actually _want _to have another baby?"

"I mean, seems like it ain't a bad idea. Right?"

Lucy snorted with amusement, and Dally sat up, ready to fight her but not sure why or what was becoming of him. In perfect honesty, Lucy wasn't sure what was becoming of her husband, either.

"It doesn't sound like a _great _idea," Lucy said. "We've got a whole new state to move to. We've got a whole older child to raise. I've got a Ph.D. to earn. Where are we gonna find the time to have a second kid?"

"Dunno," Dally said. "We found time here to raise Elenore. Why couldn't we find time there?"

"Yeah, we found the time because we had dozens of hands to help. When we get to New York, we won't know anybody. And neither of us is particularly good at making friends without one of the Curtis twins by our side, so …"

Dally tensed up when he heard the phrase _the Curtis twins_. It had been a few days since he'd talked to Soda, and he wasn't excited to talk to him again when both of them were feeling so angry. He hated to think that Soda was angry with him. He hated to think that Soda was ever angry at all.

"Things are just going to be different in New York," Lucy said. "They're not going to be bad. They're just going to be different."

"Different like how?" Dally asked. He sounded like a kid himself, and he knew it. For a brief moment, he just decided not to care.

"Different like we're going to be spending a lot more time with Elenore," Lucy said. "As a matter of fact, without family and friends to pitch in and watch her all the time like they do now, you'll see how she's still a little girl, and little girls are still a lot of work."

Dally exhaled, and Lucy was still surprised. He sounded _annoyed_. So, Lucy did the only thing she could think to do. She laughed. That was enough to get Dally riled up and angry again.

"Why're you laughing?" he asked. "I didn't think anything I said was all that funny. Did you, Bennet?"

"It's not what you said, really," Lucy said, trying to suppress more of her giggles. "It's what you mean by all this."

Dally frowned and folded his arms across his chest. Lucy was impressed. He'd put on a bit more muscle since they were eighteen. She figured it must have had something to do with stocking groceries and carrying a baby everywhere he went for the past three years.

She shook her head. It was still too surreal.

"And whaddya think I mean?" Dally asked.

"Oh, come _on_, man," Lucy said. "You can't tell me you don't see the irony."

And though Dally opened his mouth to object, Lucy held her index finger up and prevented him from saying another word.

"And _don't _say that you don't know the meaning of the word _irony_ because you and I both know you do," she said. "You read the hell out of my notes when I was taking intro to English my first year of college."

Dally rubbed the back of his neck. He was caught, all right.

"Well, then," he said. "Why don't you tell me what you think is so _ironic _about this whole fuckin' thing, man? I'm listenin'."

Lucy tried to conceal a big, toothy grin. Yes, he was listening. It had been several years since she'd had a single doubt about that. She took a breath.

"It's just that sometimes, I can't believe this is our real life," she said. "Like, I can't believe I got married. I can't believe it was _to you_. I can't believe we have a three-year-old daughter who's going to grow up and be smarter than the two of us combined. I can't believe you haven't run away yet."

Dally's face got red.

"C'mon, man," he said. "We've fuckin' talked about this. 'S been almost five fuckin' years. 'F I haven't left now, I don't think I'm ever gonna."

But Lucy shook her head.

"It's not that I'm _worried_ you're going to live, or that we're going to wake up one day and realize that this wasn't real," she said. "It's that … you're Dallas Winston! You're supposed to be …"

"Dead?" Dally asked. "At least rottin' away in prison?"

"Well, I think that's what everyone would have predicted a long time ago."

Dally let out a long, harsh sigh. Lucy put her hand on his shoulder to show him that she didn't think that ever would have happened – not really. After all, he could only make one choice at a time, and he'd chosen her. There was no way to find out what would have happened if he'd laughed off Sadie and Soda's dare like Lucy expected he was going to.

"But nothing turned out the way we thought it would when we were teenagers," Lucy said. "I mean, nothing at all. For one thing, you're alive, and you haven't been hauled into the police station since I got pregnant with Elenore."

"Yeah, fuckin' speakin' of …" Dally started, but Lucy held up her index finger in prohibition once more. He rolled his eyes and sat back. This wasn't worth the fight – yet.

"And it's not just the two of us," she continued. "It's everyone we've ever known. I never would have thought Sadie and her brothers would lose their parents. I never would have thought Darry would grow up and marry my cousin from Connecticut. Never would have thought Johnny would have the guts to ask out Sadie. Never would have thought about any of it. Nothing turned out the way we thought it was supposed to."

"I dunno if you think that's such a good thing, judgin' by your voice," Dally said.

"I don't know if it's a good thing _or _a bad thing," Lucy said. "There's no way to know what might have happened had we made different choices at different times. This is all we've got."

Dally snorted with some dry amusement.

"I dunno about you, Bennet," he said. "Sometimes, you talk like you're tryin' out for a movie."

Lucy blushed.

"Sorry," she said, allowing her voice to get a little flustered (a real rarity for her). "Sometimes, I start sounding like a writer when I should really just sound like … well, me."

They were quiet for a long moment. Lucy threaded her fingers through her husband's and thought about it for just a little longer. These were _her husband's _hands. Dallas Winston had looked inside himself one day and finally found that he was someone worth trying for – worth _living _for. Both he and Lucy knew that to be true. Lucy hadn't changed him. He'd always had affection for her, and he always wanted to impress her in one way or another. That much was true. But she hadn't changed him. He'd looked inside himself and done that all on his own. It had been years, and it still scared the hell out of him. After seventeen years of raising hell and bringing it back down again, how do you know you're done? How do you know you can resist the temptation to wreck the world?

After he asked himself that question, Dally could have sworn he heard the record player click on in the other room.

"_You got a thing about you / I just can't live without you_ …"

"Ya know somethin'?" he finally asked.

"I know plenty," Lucy said. "But I'm willing to learn new things."

"Oh, I know. That's why we're packin' up and movin' far away from this fuckin' place."

Lucy tried to laugh, but it couldn't come out. She swallowed, worried that one day, her husband and her daughter would resent her for this move – from taking them away from the only family they'd really ever known. She blinked a few times, trying to flush those thoughts out. This was not the right time.

"You didn't have a fuckin' hand in the way I turned out," Dally said. "Maybe ya had somethin' like a thumbprint or a nail. I dunno. But the way I turned out … the fact that I ain't dead or in jail or somethin' … that ain't 'cause of you."

Lucy nodded.

"I know," she said. "What else do you have?"

"I turned out different outta spite," he said. "Everybody thought they knew what I was headed for. They didn't know fuckin' _shit_. 'F they thought I was gonna run off or beat the shit outta my kid like my old man used to do to me and V … well, I was gonna act like Soda's old man, just to show 'em they don't know. They don't know nothin'. I ain't gonna be what they say I'm gonna be."

Again, Lucy nodded. She squeezed his hand, and he squeezed back. It was a good feeling.

"I think I might have known that, too," she said. "But it's good to hear you say it."

"I ain't gonna leave you, Bennet," Dally said, seemingly out of nowhere at all. "I know this ain't what anybody expected outta me, but that don't make it fake or nothin'. I kinda …"

And though he couldn't bring himself to say it, both he and Lucy knew exactly what he felt. In turn, both he and Lucy knew that he meant every word, every syllable, and every letter.

Lucy breathed in and kissed Dally quickly. When they moved away from one another, just a bit, there was only one thing Lucy had left to say.

"And you're sure you wouldn't mind another kid?"

Dally shook his head. It was still surreal, but maybe Lucy would adjust to it one day.

"Naw, man," he said. "I think it'd be cool."

"They're expensive, you know. Elenore costs us an arm and a leg. If we added another one to the mix, we'd just be torsos."

"I know."

Lucy sighed. She thought about everything that went into having and raising a baby, even after just three years of raising Elenore. She thought about how much she _hated _her body when she was pregnant. Admittedly, she hated her body all the time, but being pregnant at the age of nineteen just exacerbated things. She'd look at herself in the mirror, and it was like she lived in a fun house with no reprieve. At the end of it, of course, was Elenore. And Elenore, of course, was about the loveliest little girl the world had ever known.

But she couldn't just forget about the year she'd spent selfish and depressed. She couldn't forget about the year she wondered whether being a wife and a mother was all there was for her. When she figured out the answer to that question was no, she'd been thrilled. That was part of why they were moving to New York now – so that Lucy could figure out what it meant to be more than just Dally's wife and Elenore's mother. What would happen if they had another kid now? Would life spare Lucy the depression, the guilt, and the regret? Or would she find herself doubled over in Greenwich Village, sobbing as she tried to nurse the reminder that in the end, she was just someone's mother? She shuddered at the thought. She didn't want to go through that again. More than that, she didn't want to _put _anyone through that again, especially not a child.

She squeezed Dally's hand one more time.

"I don't know if I can have another baby right now," she said.

Thankfully, Dally nodded.

"Yeah," he said. "Figured it was a long fuckin' shot. But then, everything we been through has been a long fuckin' shot, so might as well ask. Ya dig?"

Much to his surprise (but not to his displeasure) Lucy climbed into his lap and kissed him slowly, deeply … with more feeling than she had in the past few days. He wrapped his hands around her waist and pulled her nearer to him.

She stopped kissing him for a moment to catch her breath. After a long inhale, she looked him right in the eye.

"I'm not ready to have another baby," she repeated.

"I know, man," Dally said. "You just fuckin' said so. I can hear, ya know."

Lucy rolled her eyes, and Dally loved it.

"But just because I'm not ready right now," Lucy said, "doesn't mean we can't get a little practice."

He smirked and reached around for the bottom of his wife's top, making the most of some of their last days above Great Books.

* * *

Later on, Lucy dragged Dally down a few blocks to the Curtis house. Lynnie told Lucy she needed her to try on her bridesmaid dress one last time before the wedding (Lynnie was the kind of bride who wanted everything to match.); Lucy thought it would be a good idea to get Dally into the Curtis house again. It had been almost a week since he awkward confrontation with Soda, and Lucy was tired of the two of them pretending like they didn't know how to speak to each other. She didn't say any of this to Dally, of course, but she knew he knew.

Before long, Lucy was standing in the middle of the Curtis living room, modeling an unattractive pink frock for Lynnie and Darry. Lynnie was practically jumping for joy, and Lucy looked bored out of her skull. Every time she looked at Dally with her bored eyes, he could have sworn he could hear her thoughts. Lucy would suffer a great deal more torture before she tried on a pink dress again.

"You just look so _beautiful_!" Lynnie said.

"Isn't that not supposed to be your goal?" Lucy asked. "I mean, I've never had a wedding, nor did I ever want one … but isn't the bride supposed to want her bridesmaids to look worse than she does?"

"Well, you might never have had a wedding, but this is my second. I'm sort of an expert in that way. And what I say is that I want my bridesmaids to look beautiful, too. It's the only way I'll ever be happy."

"You're too nice. I have no idea how I'm related to you."

"'Let me tell you 'bout the birds and the bees and the flowers and the trees.'"

Lucy rolled her eyes to keep from laughing, but Lynnie knew her well enough to know what she was doing.

"I knew it, though," Lynnie said. "We're going to need to take in the waist. You've lost weight in the past few months."

"No, I haven't," Lucy said, suddenly offended.

"Yes, you have. You poor thing. Must be stressed thinking about the big move. Less than three months away."

Lucy fidgeted and hoped Lynnie wouldn't notice. She didn't, but out of the corner of her eye, she thought perhaps Darry did.

"We only have a few days," Lynnie said, more to herself than to Lucy. "But your mom's a quick seamstress. You'll take the dress to her when you pick up Elenore in a bit?"

"Yeah, sure," Lucy said. "But I'm gonna take it off first. I love you, but I don't love pink."

"But you love me enough to wear it in public. _Twice_."

"Accept it. Don't celebrate it."

Lynnie laughed, and then, they all heard Jimmy's voice coming from the bedroom that used to belong to Sadie.

"Mommy!" he shouted. "One of my trains went under my bed, and I can't reach it!"

"Coming!" Lynnie shouted back.

She turned to Lucy.

"I can trust you to get that dress taken in?" she asked. "For real?"

"Of course you can," Lucy said. "You can trust me with anything."

That time, she _knew _she saw Darry react. He snorted, and it seemed contemptuous. Lucy felt her heart drop to her knees. What did he know? How did he know it?

"Thanks, sweetie," Lynnie said, and she took off for the back of the house. Lucy turned to Dally and motioned dramatically to the pink.

"Do you see this?" she asked.

"Well, I ain't fuckin' blind," Dally said.

"No, you're not. But if you stare at this pink for much longer, you're going to be."

"C'mon, man. She's your cousin."

"I know. And you're not allowed to make fun of her, but I am."

Dally rolled his eyes, but it was in good fun. Darry stepped closer to Lucy, and she felt her heart begin to drop even lower than before. He tipped his head toward Dally.

"Hey, Dally," he said. "Why don't you go out in the back? Soda's out there."

Dally shrugged.

"I dunno, man," he said. "And since when do you think I'm gonna take orders from you?"

"Since your wife seconds the motion."

Dally turned to look at Lucy, who was nodding. Exasperated, he shoved his hands in his pockets and made his way toward the backdoor.

"I'm fuckin' housebroken," he muttered. "Listenin' to Darry. Listenin' to my wife. What's next, man?"

"You'll stop saying bullshit like that, that's what's next," Lucy said.

Dally made no reply, and a few seconds later, Lucy and Darry heard the backdoor open up and close again. Lucy nervously laughed, trying to say something to ease the strange tension between herself and Darry, but she didn't have the time. Darry was on the move.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" he asked.

Lucy felt every hair on her arms stand up straight.

"What?" she asked. Her voice couldn't handle much more.

Darry moved closer to her and stared her right in the eye. As he gave her that withering stare, she had to admit. This was the first time she agreed with Ponyboy. There was something so cold about the oldest Curtis sibling's eyes. She'd just never been on the receiving end of that ice before.

"I'm gonna say this as quiet as I can," he said. "Lynnie's in the next room, and this is a small house."

"What?" Lucy asked.

"Aww, you fuckin' know what. Why haven't you fuckin' told anybody you're movin' the day after my wedding?"

Lucy closed her eyes and opened them again. She wanted nothing more than to leap out of her body. She thought maybe closing her eyes for a moment would take her out of there. When she opened her eyes again and noticed she was still present, she figured she might as well go with it. She didn't have much of a choice.

"Who told you?" Lucy asked. "Was it Soda?"

"You told _Soda_?" Darry asked. "You told Soda, but you didn't tell _Sadie_? You didn't tell _Lynnie_?"

"Well, if you didn't hear it from Soda, who'd you hear it from? He's the only person I told except Violet, and I _know _you didn't talk to Violet."

"You told _Violet_, and you didn't tell _Sadie_?"

"Who told you I'm moving after the wedding, Darry?"

"Two-Bit!"

"How the hell did Two-Bit know?"

"He said he heard it from Lilly."

"How did…?"

But then, of course, Lucy knew exactly how Lilly figured it out. She put her face in her palms and sighed deeply.

"The boxes," Lucy said. "When she came over late a few nights ago, she must have seen the boxes in the living room. Lilly. She's smarter than we give her credit, you know."

Darry almost growled. Lucy couldn't get over how much he sounded like the Darry that Ponyboy used to complain about when they were all just teenagers.

"I ain't here to talk about how smart Lilly Cade is," he said. "I'm here to ask you who the hell you think you are."

"Darry," Lucy started, but she knew it was futile. There was no such thing as justifying this choice.

"No, shut up," Darry said. "Shut up. Do you know how hard it is for Sadie to know that you're leavin' _at all_? Imagine how much it's gonna kill her to know that you're leavin' in a few fuckin' days."

"Darry …"

"Less than a week. Less than a week, and you won't live here anymore. You won't drop by with Elenore. You won't hang out with Sadie on the weekends when ya both get a free moment from your husbands and your kids. When you wanna see us, you won't be able to. All of that is a few days away."

"I know, but …"

"_Shut up_. I don't know who you are, but our Lucy wouldn't have kept this a secret from nobody for this long. Our Lucy _especially _wouldn't have kept this a secret from _my sister_."

"You don't understand."

"No, you're right. I fuckin' well don't. So, why don't you try to explain it to me? Because I gotta tell ya, kid. I'm fuckin' baffled."

Lucy took a deep breath. She looked over toward the Curtis family couch and thought about all the evenings she spent with Sadie just sitting there. They'd sat there to watch the _Cinderella _musical on the television. They'd sat there when Lucy figured out she was in love with Dallas Winston. They'd sat there when Lucy went into labor with Elenore; two years later, they'd sat there again when Sadie went into labor with Michael. Everything in her life as she knew and loved it went back to that couch. Everything in her life as she knew and loved it went back to that one woman.

She could have said all that to Darry. Really, she could have. But instead, when she thought about the cold look in his eyes (one she wasn't used to seeing at all), she couldn't help herself. She started to cry.

Darry did not reach out to comfort her. He stood directly across from her, arms folded across his chest, a strange signifier that he could whip her ass at any moment if he chose. He just watched her cry. It was pitiful (for both of them).

"It scares the shit out of me," Lucy said, trying to keep her sobs as quiet as possible for Lynnie's sake. "It scares the shit out of me to think that I'm not going to be around her anymore."

"And you think … what?" Darry asked, and Lucy hated the venom in his voice. She wanted to smack it out of him and probably would have if she weren't trying so hard to keep it down for Lynnie. "You think that if you just don't tell her, it's not gonna be real?"

"It doesn't make a lot of sense."

"It doesn't make _any _fuckin' sense."

He took a deep breath, and Lucy tensed up. She knew whatever was coming next was going to be the lowest blow of the fight.

"You know," he said, pronouncing both words like he was trying to remind Lucy that _he could have gone to college, too_, "I used to think you and Dally were too different. But you're not. When he ran away to New York for the first time, he didn't tell any of us, either. Left us scared out of our wits. When he finally came back a few years later, I wouldn't have let him back in if it were up to me. But you know Soda. He's always loved Dally, even in spite of himself."

Lucy drew in a long breath. It wracked her chest like nothing had before. She hated the piss out of Darry in that moment, and she wasn't sure if she'd ever quite forgive him for it. One thing was for sure. She'd make him pay, somehow. She loved him like her own brother, but she'd need to make him pay. You didn't just get away with hurting Lucy Bennet. She didn't always start the fight, but she made damn sure she always finished it.

"And Sadie's always loved you," Darry said, "even in spite of yourself."

That was it. There it was. The lowest blow.

Lucy immediately stopped crying. She wiped her eyes of the tears (that she'd shed for Sadie and Sadie alone), sharply inhaled exactly once, and looked Darry square in the eye. She thought she saw him cower. Good. He'd almost forgotten. He might have been Superman, and though Superman was strong, he wasn't as frightening as Lucy.

"Darry," she said, turning his name into a weapon. "I know I fucked up. That doesn't mean you have to be a dick about it."

But Darry just kept staring at her. He couldn't believe this was where they were. He couldn't believe that Lucy was married to Dally; that Dally had stuck around to raise their three-year-old daughter. He couldn't believe that someone like Lucy had wanted to join them in the first place. He couldn't believe that they were moving just as they were really about to become family. As much as he'd never admit it, he would miss Lucy, too.

"Sadie and I have more in common than you might think," Darry said. "I said I wouldn't let Dally back in after he left without telling us, and I meant it. I might have been a kid myself, but I meant it."

Lucy made no reply. She understood, and she knew where Darry was headed. She figured she'd let him go there. It would make him feel better for a moment or two.

"If you leave without telling Sadie," he said, "there's a chance she's not going to want to let you back in, either."

Lucy felt her hands turn into fists. She knew she couldn't hit Darry. He was built like a brick wall, and she was about a foot shorter than he was. It would hurt her like hell. But she wouldn't stand for this. She already felt like shit about what she was doing to Sadie. She didn't need Darry to tell her to feel shittier.

"I think there's something you're forgetting," Lucy said.

"What?" Darry asked.

"Sadie is Soda's twin. I don't think they could close their arms if they tried."

Darry didn't know what to say. He knew Lucy had a point, but that didn't change the fact that when he looked at her, all he saw was red. After all his family had done for her (loved her, supported her, made her feel welcome in a neighborhood where she clearly wouldn't have belonged otherwise), this was how she repaid them? By leaving them with no time to say goodbye? He wanted to tell her that he was sorry to see her go and that he'd miss her like hell. That he'd missed Dally like hell when they were kids, and he left with no warning, too. He wanted to tell Lucy about all of that. But there were just some things he wasn't supposed to do. He was too proud to stop them now.

"Are you gonna tell her?" Darry asked. His voice was thick.

"Yes," Lucy said.

"Are you sure? You're not gonna just pack up in the middle of the night and go? 'Cause it would kill her."

_It would kill all of us_, he thought.

"I'm not going to do that," Lucy said. "But, Darry … I don't know what to say. She's been in my life everyday for so long, I'm scared that if I tell her, I'll finally have to face it."

"Face what?"

"What it means to wake up one day and not see her a few hours after that."

Darry nodded. He'd felt the same way when he woke up two mornings after Sadie and Johnny got married.

"I'm not thrilled with you," Darry said. "I think you should've come clean a long time ago. But I know. I know it's gotta be hard for you to leave."

"I've been here eight years, Darry. What if I don't know how to be anywhere else?"

Darry didn't know what to say. He wasn't the comforting type. All he could think was that Lucy's question was a good one, but it was really more suited for Sadie. Sadie knew how to see inside of a person like that. If she hadn't seen through Lucy by now, it was because she didn't want to face what was there.

"You're gonna be alright," Darry said. "You're a tough broad. Tough enough to handle ole Dally, anyway."

"He's pretty weak once you get to know him," Lucy joked, and luckily, Darry laughed.

"Yeah, maybe."

They were quiet for a moment, until the question screaming its way out of Lucy finally found its way into the air.

"You're not going to tell her, are you?" she asked.

She hated how nervous she sounded. She didn't like to show weakness in front of anyone, much less in front of Darry.

But, again, luckily, Darry shook his head.

"Naw," he said. "I ain't gonna tell her."

Lucy nodded.

"This is your mess," Darry said. "You gotta find your way out of it."

"I already feel like shit, Darry," Lucy said. "You don't have to rub it in."

Darry didn't know what to say, but as it turned out, he didn't need to know. Lynnie came out of Jimmy's room, and the conversation drifted off.

"Sorry that took so long," Lynnie said. "My arms do not reach as far as I thought they did."

"How far did you think they'd reach?" Lucy asked.

"I'm a mother, Lucy. I expect them to reach around the damn globe."

Lucy sighed. She thought about Dally's out-of-character request to have another baby because Elenore was getting to be too old and too smart. In theory, she'd like to have another baby, too. But then she remembered that she wasn't the best and most loving mother as it was. Elenore must have thought she was a joke. She wondered if she would have reached around the globe for one of Elenore's toys. Maybe, she thought. Maybe, when she learned how to be a little less selfish and a lot more …

Well, whatever it was that Sadie and Lynnie and Soda had that she didn't.

Lynnie frowned, noticing that there was something odd in the air between Lucy and Darry. She wrinkled her nose and asked, "What were the two of you talking about before I came back out here?"

Lucy and Darry looked at one another, some pain in their eyes. Lucy's eyes begged Darry not to force her to tell Lynnie about the real moving date. Darry's eyes assured Lucy that there was no way out now. So, Lucy swallowed hard and let go of her fists.

"Hey, Lynn," Lucy said. "There's something I have to tell you before I go."

* * *

While Darry was undoubtedly reading Lucy the riot act for keeping their moving date a secret, Dally shuffled outside into the Curtis family's backyard, only to find Sodapop, sitting on a shitty patio chair and drinking a beer.

They saw each other. Looked each other up and down for a moment. Dally knew he'd have to be the one to speak first. He knew Soda, and Soda was too embarrassed after everything that had gone down between the two of them lately to say very much. Dally knew that if Soda broke first, he'd start to cry, and the only thing worse than crying in front of Darry was crying in front of Dally.

Dally motioned to the beer bottle in Soda's hand.

"Thought you ain't never liked to drink very much," he said.

Soda gave him a weak smile and lifted the bottle in the air, just a bit.

"It's legal," Soda said. "Jane's out. Figured there ain't no harm."

Without even recognizing it, Dally got closer to Soda in the yard. Soda didn't back up or bristle. It was a stark change from the interactions they'd had in the past year. Secretly, somewhere inside himself, Dally was relieved. He hated being strained with Soda.

"Since when do you care about legal?" Dally asked. "You been in a shit ton of rumbles in your day. Remember when you got hauled in for doin' acrobatics down the fuckin' street?"

Soda grinned. He looked like himself.

"That was a fun day," he said. "You never learned how to flip, did ya, Dally?"

Dally shook his head.

"Naw, man," he said. "It ain't cool."

Soda's grin turned into a full laugh. He sounded like himself.

"I ain't never cared about bein' cool," he said.

Again, without really recognizing it, Dally pulled the other shitty patio chair out of the garage and sat in front of Soda. They just looked at each other for a long time. Soda put his beer bottle to his mouth but didn't drink. After a moment, he lowered the bottle and thrust it toward Dally.

"If you're tryin' to get me to drink after you, I hate to say it, man, but I won't," Dally said. "I might be a hood, but that don't mean I like drinkin' some guy's backwash."

Soda laughed a little and took a swig out of the bottle.

"I was just gonna ask if you wanted one," he said. "Do ya?"

To Soda's surprise, Dally shook his head.

"I better not," he said. "Me and Bennet, we walked here and everything, but we're about to go pick up Elenore. Last time I drank before pickin' up Elenore, kid smelled beer on me and didn't like it too much."

Soda smiled that kind of sly smile he'd gotten so good at over the past few years.

"You care about if your daughter likes the way you smell?" Soda asked.

"Just don't fuckin' say it out loud ever again," Dally said.

Soda laughed and took another short sip out of his bottle. He sat back a little bit, then caught his balance when he remembered that plastic patio chairs were not to be reclined in. Dally smirked to keep from laughing at the kid, but he almost couldn't help himself. This was him. This was the Soda he'd always known.

He was glad to have him back.

"Listen, man," Dally said. "You ain't gotta pretend."

"Pretend?" Soda asked. "Pretend what?"

"You ain't gotta pretend like you don't know about when me and Bennet and Elenore are movin'. I know Lucy told you a couple of days ago."

Soda's eyes shifted toward the pavement. He hated carrying that secret around … which was why he'd told Jane a few hours after that initial confrontation with Lucy. He'd made her swear not to mention it to anyone, especially not Sadie. But the look on poor Jane's face just about killed him. It killed him, in part, because he never liked to see his wife look so sad. But it killed him, too, because he knew that the look on Jane's face was what he felt like on the inside. It wasn't that Soda hated to lose Lucy and Dally and Elenore. It was that he _couldn't _lose them. Maybe the line was too fine for most people to see, but he knew it was there. And he knew Jane knew it, too.

"'S OK," Dally said. "I think it's killin' her more than she knows to keep it a secret from your sister. I think maybe when she told you …"

"She thought I'd get around to tellin' Sadie for her," Soda finished and took a long sip from his bottle. He didn't need to think about that. He'd known it from the start.

"Yeah," Dally said. "Did you? Tell her, I mean. Tell Sadie."

Soda shook his head, and Dally wasn't quite sure if that was the answer he wanted.

"Naw," Soda said. "I thought about it, but then I thought it'd kill Lucy if she wasn't the one to break it to Sadie. They're too close. I don't wanna mess that up."

"But ya told Jane, didn't ya?"

"Oh, I absolutely told Jane."

Dally rolled his eyes. He knew _exactly _how he felt about that.

"She's my wife, man," Soda said. "You ain't supposed to keep secrets from your wife. You know that. You been married way longer than any of us. Five years."

"Not quite," Dally said.

Soda took a deep breath. He almost tried to lean back in the plastic chair again, but he caught himself. Out of the corner of his eye, Dally noticed, and he snickered just a little.

"I know it hasn't been too long since we last talked," Soda said. "Less than a week, accordin' to Jane. But I'm …"

"Save it, man," Dally said.

Soda frowned. After all these years of Dally growing into himself, of Dally deciding to be something different than what everyone told him he was supposed to be, Soda had to admit he was surprised. For the past five years, Dally had been fairly willing to hear him out. To hear him shut down a conversation now felt foreign. It hurt more than it used to.

"What?"

It was all Soda could manage.

"Save it," Dally said. "I know you're sorry about what'cha said, man. You said some shit. I took some shit personal. I ain't proud that I took it personal, but I did."

"But you were _supposed _to take it personal," Soda said. "I said it to hurt you. Who am I that I'd say somethin' to hurt you? That's supposed to be your job."

Dally just shrugged.

"I been hangin' around Bennet for so long, I'm startin' to think maybe we don't always need to do what we think we're supposed to do," Dally said. "You said some shit to me. I got roughed up by it. When we was kids, it would've been the other way around, but we ain't kids. Things get mixed up here and there."

"You ain't 'hangin' around' Lucy," Soda said. "You're married to her."

"Don't argue words with me, man."

They were quiet for a little while longer. Then, Dally spoke again.

"I know you're sorry for it," he said. "I'm sorry, too."

Soda furrowed his brow.

"Why're you sorry?" he asked. "You didn't do nothin'."

"Maybe not," Dally said. "But you were … well, you weren't too good off. I could've stuck around and listened to ya a little more, man, but I didn't. Guess I was …"

He stopped. He wasn't sure if he should go on. There was plenty he could say. Plenty he was thinking – had been thinking since Soda shipped out, wrote letters, and came back. He and Soda had been in each other's lives since before either of them could really remember. He'd always taken Soda's presence for granted before Lucy came around. But after he married Lucy, he started to see things differently. He started to look at people as people.

And all that started with Sodapop Curtis. Without Sodapop Curtis, he was quite sure he'd be dead.

There was no point in keeping it in any longer. Soda didn't care if he looked cool. He'd just said so. He never cared about cool. Dally exhaled for a long time before he spoke again.

"I guess I was thinkin' you were a little bit right," Dally said. "I was thinkin' you made a good point. There ain't no rhyme or reason why you had to go, and I got to stay. And then I thought … 'f it wasn't for you, I'd never have had Elenore."

Soda laughed a little.

"Aww, shucks," he said. "But I think you forget. Lucy's the one who pushed Elenore out. Not me."

"Ah, shut up, will ya? I'm tryin' to make a point."

"You're always tryin' to make a point."

"Well, then, this shouldn't be outta the ordinary. I never would've stuck around Bennet if it wasn't for you."

Soda shook his head.

"That's close," he said. "I think I just told ya what you already knew. You would've stayed even if I hadn't told ya. Even if I hadn't dared ya."

Dally took another deep breath and thought about it. The scariest possibility was that Soda was right. He'd had it in him the whole time. He'd had it in him the whole time to be a decent man. It scared the shit out of him to think it had taken him as long as it did to come around. He didn't want to be that responsible for himself. It was much easier to scapegoat everything onto Soda – even the things he was proud of.

"I dunno, man," Dally said. "When you said all that shit, I guess I was too scared to tell ya what I was thinkin' when you shipped out."

"What were you thinkin'?" Soda asked.

He gasped a little and regretted the question immediately. You didn't just ask Dally what he was thinking. Even though anyone could tell that he thought a lot (and thought very deeply), you didn't just ask him what he was thinking unless you wanted to get killed.

But Dally didn't look like he wanted to kill him. He just let out another long sigh before he started to speak again.

"I was thinkin' I was real scared you were gonna die," Dally said, trying not to regret it. "I think I was thinkin' I heard more and more word about people dyin' over there, and I was real scared you were gonna be one of 'em. Think about yourself, man. You can hold your own in a rumble, but when it comes down to it, you're softer 'n my three-year-old."

Soda tried to laugh, but it didn't come out. He didn't even have time to process the fact that Dally had just been more earnest and vulnerable in front of him than perhaps Dally had ever been in his life. All he could think about was that he wanted to tell Dally the truth. It just poured out of him.

"I think I died when I got shot in the leg," he said.

Dally made a face.

"What?" he asked. It was about all he could manage.

Soda nodded, which was even more confounding.

"I think I died," he repeated. "I know, that sounds dumb. I couldn't believe it, either. Gettin' shot in the leg the way I did … it couldn't really kill ya. But when I went down, it was like I was seein' the end of the world. Well, the end of my world, anyway. It was brighter 'n anything I ever seen before, and then, before I knew it … I was seein' my mom."

Dally's entire body tensed up. He didn't like to think about Soda's mother very often. She was one of his biggest regrets – not quite so big as leaving Violet behind when he went to New York the first time, but almost as big. He'd loved her before he knew how to love anything, and he'd always known she loved him. She took him in when Soda's old man would beg her not to. Mr. Curtis thought that Dally was a shit influence on his kids, and the more time they spent around him, the more likely they were to become no-count hoods instead of the gentlemanly types they turned out to be (for the most part, anyway). But Mrs. Curtis never heard a word of that. She had a soft spot for Dally – a soft spot Soda had inherited and a soft spot Darry and Pony had to work like hell to develop. But she was one of his biggest regrets. He loved her like hell, and he never told her. He didn't know how.

He wondered if Frances Curtis could hear him now.

Dally wasn't sure what to say to Soda, so he just asked.

"She say anything to you?"

Soda nodded.

"She did," he said. "She said, 'I knew you'd be the first to go.'"

Dally didn't say anything. He wasn't sure there was much to say, other than it was a feeling he'd always had in his gut, too. And as it turned out, his gut was almost never wrong. He didn't say anything like that in front of Soda. He didn't want to risk running him off. Not when they were closer than they'd been in years.

It hurt Dally to realize just how much he'd missed the kid.

"It gets worse," Soda said. "When I got shot and saw her, it wasn't the first time I heard her say that to me. The night before I shipped out, I had a dream about her. I saw her again, like I was heaven or somethin'. And she said the same thing."

He looked at Dally desperately, like he wanted him to take away his pain. Much to his own surprise, Dally wanted to be able to do it.

"What does that mean?" Soda asked. By the tone in his voice, he was getting close to tears. "What does it mean that the same thing would happen twice?"

But Dally still didn't know what to say. Nothing would be right. He just shrugged again. He knew full well how _fucking lame _that was, but he just couldn't do better. He hurt, too.

"I dunno," he said. "Maybe … maybe your dream was tellin' you what was gonna happen after ya got shot. I dunno."

Soda bobbed his head a little, trying to accept Dally's answer as an answer. Of course, that was nearly impossible. Nobody Soda talked to about the moment he got shot really wanted to engage with that part of the story. And maybe it wasn't that they didn't want to. Maybe it was that it hurt too much to think about. He thought about Jane's pale blue eyes when he told her that it had happened twice. She looked at him as though he told her he was a ghost.

He still felt like a ghost.

"I didn't know how to look at you after I got back," Soda said. "I didn't know how to look at you 'cause I felt like shit for what I said before I went. I didn't know how to look at you 'cause I was pissed off I came back with a limp, and you never went at all. But I guess … I dunno. More 'n any of that, I was real scared you were gonna hate me. And I don't think I'd know how to be here if you hated me."

He closed his eyes for a little while and then opened them up again.

"I'm sorry 'f that makes me sound like a fuckin' pansy," Soda said. "But it's what I been thinkin'. I can't put it any prettier than that. Sometimes, Darry will hire Pony to write him speeches for moments like this one, but I ain't that kinda guy."

Dally almost laughed. He realized, then, that he had moved his chair even closer to Soda's. It was like looking into a mirror.

"You don't sound like a pansy, man," Dally said. "You just sound like Soda."

Soda broke out into the biggest grin after Dally said that. Dally had no idea just how long Soda had been waiting for someone to look at him and say something like that. Of course it was Dally who realized he hadn't ever really been gone. Dally always noticed things first, even if he didn't say anything.

"Hey, Dally?" Soda asked.

"You ain't gotta get my attention that way," Dally said. "We're the only two people out here."

"Right. Uh, anyway. I been thinkin' about that book you gave me the last time we saw each other. You know, the Wilfred Owen one?"

Dally nodded.

"Yeah?" he asked. "What about it?"

"Well, I been lookin' at that page you dog-eared for me," Soda said. "And I'm stuck on these couple of lines."

"What's it say?"

"'How cold and late it is! / Why don't they come / And put him into bed? / Why don't they come?'"

Dally thought about the poem. He knew full well which one it was. It was "Disabled."

"Uh-huh," he said. "What about it?"

"Well, why don't they come?" Soda asked.

Dally let out another long sigh. This was going to take some getting used to, but he'd never get used to it in the end. In a few days, he'd be gone, and he didn't know if talking to Soda on the telephone would be quite the same. There was something about being able to see his face that Dally would, much to his own surprise all over again, miss terribly.

"Dunno," he said. "Wish I had a better answer for ya."

"I think that's bullshit," Soda said. "I think you do have a better answer. You just ain't tellin' it to me 'cause it's not cool. Like fuckin' acrobatics."

Dally couldn't help but smirk at that one. He had to admire when Sodapop Curtis played tough. Of course, he wasn't playing. Dally knew that. He knew that maybe better than anybody.

"They don't come," Dally said, "'cause they're too fuckin' afraid of what to say to him next. Too fuckin' afraid they're gonna say the wrong thing."

"Well, that's too bad," Soda said. "I think he's OK with them sayin' anything. 'S long 's they're talkin' to him."

And it scared the hell out of him, just like it had when he was fourteen years old and back in Tulsa for the first time in three years. But it came out of him like nothing had before. He grabbed Sodapop Curtis and hugged him tightly, closely. He didn't see the point in letting go. He didn't see much of anything. He knew that if he thought about this – if he thought about showing affection to Soda in the Curtis family's backyard, where anybody could see him – the moment would be over and ruined. Dally didn't think. He just held onto Soda.

Much like their first and only other embrace some eight years earlier, Soda didn't embrace Dally back right away. He just stood there, foreign arms around his person, wondering if this was really happening to him. He'd known for a long time that Dally was just as sensitive as anyone else. After all, there was a reason they'd let him into their gang. But to think that Dally was here, hugging him like a brother just days before he would leave all over again … it was enough to make Soda want to break down and bawl like a baby again. Without thinking too much about it, he threw his arms around Dally and hugged back. Tighter. Closer.

"I know what you were gonna say the other day," Soda said.

"What?" Dally asked.

"When you said ya didn't expect me to say the shit I said about you goin' to Vietnam and me stayin' behind. You said you didn't expect it from me, but ya didn't say why. It's OK, though. I know what you were gonna say."

"You ain't got a clue, kid."

"No, but I do. And lemme tell ya. Steve's my best friend, but you …"

The men pulled back from one another just a bit. They looked right into each other's eyes and almost smiled at the same time. They hadn't quite realized just how similar their eyes were before.

"Well, if Lucy's my sister, whaddya think that makes you?" Soda asked.

Dally almost smiled a little bit wider as he made his way out of the embrace. He hoped to high heaven Darry hadn't seen it from the kitchen window. Even if he was moving out of Oklahoma in the next few days, he knew he'd never live vulnerability down. He never did.

"You're a real fuckin' softy, ya know that?" Dally asked.

"Yeah," Soda said. "But somewhere down there inside you … you are, too."

Dally didn't say anything. He didn't have it in him to make Sodapop Curtis correct. Then, Soda's expression rapidly switched from jovial to serious.

"Can you promise me one thing?" he asked.

"Depends," Dally said. "Tell me what it is."

"Don't tell Sadie about what I told you, about me dyin' and seein' our mom. I wanna tell her myself. 'S that OK?"

Dally let out an un-amused chuckle.

"Lots of people keepin' shit from Sadie," he said. "You think that shit's gonna get backed up and blow up on her?"

"Yeah," Soda said. "But for now … I dunno. Gonna try to save some face till I can't no more."

Dally muttered some halfhearted reply, and then he became distracted. Lucy was coming out of the house and into the backyard, pink dress slung across her arm.

"Hey," she said. "I'm ready to go pick up Elenore if you are."

"Sure thing," Dally said. "You gonna take that dress in, or what?"

"It's for Lynnie," Lucy said. "I'll do anything for Lynnie. Including tell her about our real moving date. Which I just did."

"_Bennet_."

"What? Darry made me."

"Darry fuckin' knows?"

"Oh, yes. Apparently everyone knows except Sadie, Carrie, Pony, and Jane."

Soda awkwardly raised his hand.

"I might've told Jane," he said.

"OK," Lucy said. "Apparently everyone knows except Sadie, Carrie, and Pony."

"So, what're ya gonna do?" Dally asked. "Ya finally gonna come around and realize it was dumb as shit tryin' to keep this from everybody? Or are you gonna leave like I did when I was a kid?"

Lucy didn't answer. There was no real answer she could come up with. She knew Dally was right, and she wasn't up to argue the point. There was, after all, no real argument to be had. She grabbed his hand, which he let her take.

"So," she said. "What were the two of you talkin' about out here?"

"We hugged, actually," Dally said, and Soda's eyebrows practically hit the sky.

Luckily, Lucy laughed.

"Sure," she said. "I'll believe it when I fucking see it. You ready to go pick up your baby or what?"

"Yeah," Dally said. "Maybe she'll read more authors' names at me."

"If we're lucky."

As Lucy and Dally turned and walked out of the backyard, Soda watched them go. It was one of the last times he'd get to see them like this, and he was going to enjoy every second of it. He thought about it and decided this was how he wanted to think about them when they moved away. He wanted to think about Lucy, sarcastic and funny, taking Dally's hand when he least expected it and most needed it. He wanted to think about Dally, hugging him without caring who saw because he knew they both needed it. He wanted to think about how they all stood in that very backyard the night Lucy and Dally decided sure, they could get married in a couple of days. It was the place where he had the best memories of them. It was the place where he always wanted to imagine his other brother and sister.

* * *

"There's somethin' I wanna tell you."

"Huh?"

Ponyboy awkwardly tore his arms away from Carrie's waist. They were sitting in the front seat of Darry's truck, gracelessly parked in front of the Curtis house, after their date that night. He frowned at Carrie, whose mood had changed quite drastically from the beginning of the night, when she was happy and light and fun, to now. Now, she seemed afraid of something. Ponyboy had to admit he didn't care for that.

"I said there's somethin' I need to tell you," Carrie said. "Didn't you hear me?"

"I heard ya," Ponyboy said. "I'm just confused, that's all. You seem real serious all of a sudden."

Carrie nodded.

"I wasn't going to mention it," she said. "And I was in a real good mood when we headed out tonight because I found out some good news. But I thought about it while you were kissin' me, and I want to tell you."

"Well, what is it? Dammit, Carrie, you're making me nervous."

When Carrie didn't say anything, and instead looked toward her shoes, Ponyboy straightened up a little more.

"Well, should I be nervous?" he asked.

Carrie shook her head, but it didn't look like she meant it.

"Not really," she said. "I guess I should stop draggin' this out, huh?"

"I'll say."

After a long sigh, Carrie looked out the window and at Ponyboy's reflection in the glass.

"I got my period a few minutes before we headed out tonight," she said.

Ponyboy furrowed his brow.

"Yeah?" he asked. "Don't ya get that every month?"

"Under normal circumstances," Carrie said.

"Well, why wouldn't you … oh."

"Yeah."

Ponyboy leaned back in the driver's seat, and though he knew he should probably be thinking of Carrie, he could only think of Johnny, his best friend, his brother-in-law, and now, the father of his nephew. How old had Johnny been when Sadie had Michael, anyway? Was that really just a year ago? Johnny had been twenty then. Twenty. It still seemed so impossibly _old _to Ponyboy. His nineteenth birthday was still more than two months away, and even then, it seemed like forever until twenty would come knocking on his door.

What would he be like when he was twenty? Would he be like Johnny? Married and ready to bring a kid into the world? He could barely take care of himself, and the government was willing to call him an adult. Just that morning, he'd put his socks in the oven because he'd gotten the bathroom floor wet during his shower and, for a reason he could not explain even if he were asked (And Darry _did _ask.), decided it would be a good idea to put his socks on before he wiped up the water. He'd been this way for as long as he could remember, and he really couldn't see himself being any different by the time he turned twenty. How could he be trusted to raise a baby when he didn't know that wearing dry socks to wipe up a puddle was a bad idea?

Carrie would be turning twenty at the end of July. Was she ready for any of this? Ponyboy supposed it was a good thing it wasn't happening. But by the look on Carrie's face, he couldn't tell whether she felt the same way.

"I'm nineteen," Carrie said.

"I know," Ponyboy said. "I'm eighteen. You're a real cradle robber, ya know that?"

Carrie almost laughed, but she couldn't quite bring herself there.

"I'm nineteen," she said. "I just finished my second year of college. I'm lookin' forward to the third. We're supposed to take Dr. Bennet's class together – the one on literary theory."

"Yeah," Ponyboy said. "I know all this. Why're ya tellin' me stuff I already know?"

But Carrie didn't really answer the question. At least, she didn't answer it in the way Ponyboy wished she would. She was always a little more mysterious than that.

"Angela was young when she got knocked up," Carrie said. "I guess I don't have to tell you that. She ran out on my birthday. But you know that, too."

"Carrie, what's goin' on?" Ponyboy asked. "You're jumpin' around so fast I can't catch up to ya."

"Sorry. I'm just thinkin'. I'm thinkin' a lot."

"Well, what're you thinkin' about? I'd like to hear."

Carrie turned to Ponyboy and smiled a little. It was a sad smile, and it continued to confuse the hell out of poor Ponyboy, who still couldn't read a room to save his life.

"I just never thought about havin' a baby when I'm this young," Carrie said. "Once me and you started college, and we started readin' a lot of different books and meetin' a lot of different people and gettin' involved with a whole hell of a lot more than just greasers and Socs … I dunno. It was like I forgot where we came from. It was like I forgot who I'm supposed to be."

"Who're you supposed to be?" Ponyboy asked.

This time, Carrie could bring herself to laugh. It was clear, however, that whatever she had in mind wasn't terribly funny.

"I'm Carrie _Shepard_," she said, hitting her last name harder than she could handle. "I'm supposed to have been knocked up by now. I'm supposed to have _not _gotten my period this month after all. I'm supposed to come around to ya, tell ya I'm in trouble, and get _hell _from my brothers and everybody else. Shepard and Curtis, they're supposed to say. A combination made in hell."

"But we ain't made in hell," Ponyboy said. "We work real good together."

Carrie grabbed his face and kissed him quickly.

"I know," she said. "You're right. And I think the less time we spent around here, just circling the same few blocks over and over and over again, the more I realized it don't matter. It don't matter if I'm Shepard, and you're Curtis. It matters that I'm Carrie, you're Pony, and I love you."

Ponyboy could feel himself blush when Carrie told him she loved him. It was more proof as to why he wasn't nearly ready enough to have a baby.

"So, what's the problem?" he asked. "If you love me, and I love you, ain't we solved everything? Can't we go back to what we were doin'?"

Carrie shook her head.

"Not right now, no," she said. "Over the past year, I guess I kinda forgot about the people we were supposed to be and started focusin' on the people we are. And I was really happy. I _am _really happy. But as soon as I found myself late for my period, and nineteen years old, I couldn't stop thinkin' about what people thought I was gonna be. It was like I was becoming that person, and I didn't like it."

"I don't know if I know what you're tryin' to get at," Ponyboy said.

"I don't know if I really do, either," Carrie said. "A couple of things, I guess. For one thing, I'm nineteen. You're eighteen. I don't care how old Lucy and Dally were when they had Elenore, or how old Sadie and Johnny were last year when Michael was born. I'm not ready for that, and I don't think you are, either."

"You heard my story about the socks and the puddle from this morning. I ain't ready for nothin', much less a whole person."

Carrie chuckled, which was enough to put both of them at ease. Ponyboy watched her grab her skirt in her hands, nervously playing with the seam. He didn't know what it was about the sight of her like that, but he loved her for it. He loved her for a lot more than that, but in that moment, watching her mess around with the seam of her skirt was enough.

"And I just wanna make sure," Carrie said. "I guess I always had an idea, but we never really … I never really asked."

"What?" Ponyboy asked. "Ask me now."

Carrie took a deep breath.

"Do you want somethin' different than Johnny?" she asked.

Ponyboy shrugged.

"Well," he said. "That depends. How do you mean?"

"I don't know. I guess … Johnny got married when he was nineteen. Michael was born a month after he turned twenty. And now … that's just gonna be who he is. And I don't think there's anything wrong with that, so don't take my words and spin 'em like ya do sometimes."

"I don't spin words!"

"You do. Sometimes, it's part of what I love about you; sometimes, it's infuriating. I think you understand the difference."

"Yeah. I do."

Carrie let go of her skirt and closed her eyes to finish what she had been saying before.

"I just think I wanna see what else is out there," she said. "I ain't sayin' I don't want to marry you one day, if that's what you want, and I ain't sayin' I don't want to have a kid. But I'm nineteen. You're eighteen. And I think I'd rather get an _A _in Dr. Bennet's literary theory class than go into labor in the middle of the exam."

"Well, it's May right now," Ponyboy said. "We take final exams in December. If you were goin' into labor then, I think I'd be real worried about you for more reasons than just bein' too young."

Carrie stared daggers at him, and he laughed.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I just wanted to lighten the mood a little bit. I been hangin' around Two-Bit for too much of my life."

"Well, consider the mood lightened," Carrie said. "But you never answered my question. Do you want to do somethin' different than our friends have been doin'?"

"Depends," Ponyboy said again. "Will you be there?"

And Carrie grinned from ear to ear.

"Yeah," she said. "I'm plannin' on bein' there."

"Cool. Then count me in for somethin' different."

* * *

At the end of the night, Lucy decided to go out for a long walk. She wasn't particularly sure where she was going, but she wasn't particularly surprised when she ended up at Sadie and Johnny's house. When she saw where she was, she thought about turning around. If she knocked on that door, she'd have to see Sadie, and she'd have to tell Sadie the truth. She wasn't sure if she could handle that – not after the fight she'd had with Darry about it. She gripped her shoes against the pavement and went to turn around, but of course, she couldn't have been so lucky as to get away with it.

"Lucy!"

There was Sadie, standing at the front door, waving. Lucy couldn't help it. She smiled and bounded toward Sadie. This was one of the last nights she'd have the chance. She was going to run with all her might.

"Whoa," Sadie said. "For a second, ya looked like a puppy who's real happy to see her owner."

"What can I say?" Lucy said. "I'm always _too _excited to see you."

"I could say the same thing about you. What are you doing here? That's not to say you're not welcome. I mean, you know you're always welcome. I just wasn't expecting you."

"Well, that's a coincidence, because I wasn't expecting myself. I was just out for a walk, and before I knew it, I ended up here."

Sadie grinned. She wasn't sure how she'd gotten so lucky, but she was the only person she knew with _two _homing beacons. She stepped aside for Lucy to come into the house, which she did. After Lucy walked into the house, she looked around the living room longingly, almost like this was the last time she'd be in there for a long time. Sadie brushed it off as strange nostalgia and decided to move on. She had almost three months with Lucy, and she was going to make the most of them.

"It's really great to see you," Sadie said. "I was actually thinkin' I'd ask you if I could come by your place in a couple of days, or whenever you're free."

"Oh?" Lucy asked.

"Yeah," Sadie said. "It's just been so long since I was there. I've been missing Elenore like crazy. I figure I should make as much time with her as I can, you know, before you're out of here."

Sadie tacked on an awkward laugh at the end of her sentence, and it sounded terrible to both women's ears. Lucy even flinched. When she saw that, Sadie backed off and bowed her head.

"I'm sorry," she said. "It's not really funny, is it? The fact that you're going to be gone."

Lucy shook her head.

"Not funny, exactly," she said. "But not … bad, either. Not bad. It's a good thing we're moving to New York. You know how much I want this degree. You know how much I want to be a professor."

Sadie nodded.

"I've known it since before I even knew your name," she said. "You remember how we met, don't you?"

"Are you _kidding _me?" Lucy asked, jokingly offended. "How could I _ever _forget the most important day of my life? You were sitting in your desk in our English class …"

"And I was reading _The Catcher in the Rye_, which I'd meticulously chosen the night before …"

"And then I walked right up to you and asked you what you were reading."

"From then on, it was this. Whatever it is you call this."

"I used to call it inseparable."

It was Sadie's turn to flinch. Lucy came closer to her and placed her hand on Sadie's elbow, which made her look up and meet Lucy's eye line.

"Hey," Lucy said.

"Hey," said Sadie.

"Listen to me. You're my best friend. Nothing in my life is possible without you. That doesn't just stop after one of us moves to another part of the country."

"Long distance phone calls are so expensive!"

Sadie made a face. She wasn't sure why she'd said that. Thankfully, however, Lucy was laughing.

"They are," Lucy said. "But after eight years of being your best friend, don't you think I think you're worth shelling out a few extra bucks a month?"

Sadie tried to smile, but it was too hard. She ended up hugging Lucy instead. Lucy hugged back, and soon enough, they found they were swaying in the middle of the living room floor, not unlike Sadie and Soda had swayed to "Cara Mia" the night before. After a little while, Lucy looked up.

"Where are Johnny and Michael?" she asked.

"Oh, they're asleep," Sadie said. "I told Johnny it was his turn to put Michael to bed, and he succeeded … but only by falling asleep first and letting Michael fall asleep on his lap. It's really sweet. I don't want to interrupt them."

"Then we'll be as quiet as church mice."

"Thanks."

The two women sat down on the couch and didn't look at each other for a moment. Lucy was trying to think about why she was so scared to walk into Sadie's house that night. She knew she'd felt dread when she first discovered that was where her aimless walk had carried her, but as soon as she saw Sadie's smiling face, she'd forgotten everything. The dread was creeping back up into her throat and spreading across the rest of her body, but as she sat there next to Sadie, she had no idea why. It didn't feel like anything needed to be different. It just felt like a visit with her best friend.

"Lynnie made me try on my bridesmaid dress today," Lucy said.

"Did she?" Sadie asked.

"Yes. She says I've lost too much weight, and I need to get the waist taken in. I don't know why, but her saying that I've lost weight made me upset."

"It's because you don't like thinking you had that much weight to lose."

"I really don't. Is that bad?"

"No. I don't think so. I don't know. I just hope Lynnie doesn't make me try on my dress before the wedding, too."

"Why not?"

Sadie exhaled. She wanted to keep this as secret from Lucy as possible. She knew how difficult it would be for Lucy to leave with this information in her back pocket. That was the kind of friend Lucy was. At least, it was the kind of friend Lucy was to _her_. She didn't like to leave Sadie behind when she needed her most. After all, she'd been the one to take care of business when Sadie needed help with her hair and her dress on the day she got married. She'd been the one to take care of business when Sadie went into labor. It would kill Lucy to have to leave now.

Then again, it killed Sadie to keep any secret from Lucy, so she figured she might as well let it go.

"I think I might be pregnant," Sadie said.

Lucy kicked herself upright from her previously relaxed position.

"What?" she asked. "Since when?"

But Sadie shook her head.

"Since I don't know when, and I might not be," she said. "It's only been a week and a half since Johnny and I started talking about having another baby, but I feel like it might have already … well, you know. Taken."

"I do know," Lucy said. "Wow. So, if you're guessing you're pregnant, it's only by …"

"A few days, yeah. I know that sounds nutty, and it probably is. There's no way I could know. But I felt like I knew with Michael about this early, if that makes any sense."

"I think it does. I mean, you could have knocked me over with a feather when I went to the hospital and found out about Elenore, but I think I know what you mean. You've always been really in tune with yourself. Remember when we were in high school, and you accurately predicted the exact date you'd come down with the flu and have to miss school?"

Sadie laughed.

"Yeah," she said. "I don't know. It's a weird gift."

"Count yourself lucky, sister. And congratulations."

"For the gift or for the…?"

Lucy smiled.

"I was thinking for the … but either one works," she said.

"Well, don't get too excited," Sadie said. "I could be completely wrong. It's only been a few days since we started thinking about it or trying for it. It's too soon to tell, and it's too soon for me to worry about having to squeeze myself into a bridesmaid dress for my brother's wedding."

"Even still," Lucy said. "I hope you're right."

Sadie beamed, and Lucy felt like she might never be happier for her.

"Me too," she said.

Lucy fell back into her relaxed position on the couch, and Sadie followed her example.

"So, here's something funny, along these lines," Lucy said. "Earlier tonight, after Dally dropped Elenore off at my parents' house, he mentioned he might want another kid someday, too."

That was when Sadie's eyes nearly fell out of her head and onto the floor.

"What?" she asked.

"I know," Lucy said. "I had just about the same reaction."

"He can't be serious. Doesn't he know what you're going to do? Doesn't he remember_ who he is_?"

"He remembers both of those things. I don't think he cares so much about the latter anymore, though. I think he kind of – and don't mention this around him or anything – _likes _that he's Elenore's dad. I think he'd _like _being someone else's dad, too. I can't believe I'm saying it, but it's a good look for him."

"I can't believe I'm saying it, but I agree. What the hell kind of world do we live in?"

"I don't know, but I'm glad it's the one we got. Mostly glad, anyway."

"What would make it better?"

"If you were coming to New York with us, and we could raise our first kids and our second kids all in the same place."

Both women sighed at the same time. They had both been thinking it. It just still hurt too much to say it. Lucy felt the dread start to creep up and through her body again, though she still didn't quite remember why.

"I know," Sadie said. "Oh, boy, do I know."

"It's not too late," Lucy said. "You can just pack up and move. It's what we're doing."

"Lucy. Come on. I've got Johnny and Michael and maybe another one coming someday soon. Johnny's got a job that he likes, and they're so good to him. I'm working, too, and it's steady. We both get weekends off. We've got a house. My brothers are here. As much as I'd love to give all that up to follow you around the world …"

"I'm just one thing, and you've got too many more here."

"I really do."

Lucy threw her hand to her side, and Sadie knew to take it. They sat there, holding hands and looking up at the ceiling, for what felt like years before Sadie interrupted the silence.

"I'm serious about coming to your place soon, though," she said. "I want to see it before I can't see it again. And I want to spend some time with Elenore before I can't see her again, either."

"You'll see her again," Lucy said.

"You know what I mean."

"Yeah. I do."

"So, what do you say? Can I make my way over there tomorrow after I'm done with work?"

Lucy squeezed Sadie's hand and nodded.

"Yeah," she said. "I think that sounds like a really good idea. Elenore will be so happy to see you. Dally will be, too, but he won't say anything about it."

Sadie snorted.

"Sounds about right," she said.

They became quiet again. As Lucy held onto her best friend's hand and stared up at the ceiling like it was going to tell her something she needed to know, she let herself forget how bad of an idea it was to let Sadie come to Great Books.

* * *

**Another diatribe where virtually **_**nothing happens**_**, and yet, this is **_**by far **_**the longest chapter in the fic. Forgive me, but I think I'm suffering from boredom and a reluctance to move on from this particular oeuvre in the 'Arrogance and Aggression' universe. Like Lucy, I too am afraid to tell Sadie that we're all moving on, even if we're staying together.**

**Hinton owns **_**The Outsiders**_**. I quote "Elenore" by The Turtles in here, and I claim no ownership, as always. I also quote "Disabled" by Wilfred Owen and claim no ownership of that pretty old poem. I **_**do **_**claim ownership of this big red blanket that had a spider hiding in it last week. That was the opposite of fun. Blanket's nice, though.**


	11. Chapter 11

Sadie left the front office of the high school around four that day. It was a Monday, which she'd keep in the back of her mind for the next while. She'd asked Johnny if she could keep the car at work that day because she was too excited to head over to Lucy and Dally's place to see Elenore – too excited to wait for him to pick her up after he was done with work. She'd practically run out the door when she finished her work for the day, and she sped all the way to Great Books, even though it wasn't terribly far away.

Like always, she parked her car around the corner; like always, she walked through the front door of the shop only to find Lucy, standing behind the counter, reading a book. That day, it was _Little Women_.

Sadie pointed at the book and asked Lucy, "So, which March sister are you?"

Lucy lowered the book onto the counter and grinned.

"You know I'm Jo," Lucy said. "You?"

"I'm Meg," Sadie said. "Keeping the peace."

_Compromising_, Lucy thought, but she knew better than to say it. She came out from behind the counter and grabbed the keys to the apartment.

"You got here much faster than I thought you would," Lucy said.

"Yeah, I know," Sadie said. "Usually, I wait for Johnny to come pick me up on Mondays, but I was just too excited to come over here and see Elenore. And you, of course."

"Ah, you don't have to pretend. Elenore's way more fun than I'll ever be."

"That's what happens when you're three. What were you like when you were three?"

"Intelligent. Angry. I used to slam the books I couldn't read in my father's lap and demand he read them to me. It's possible that's the very reason I'm an only child."

Sadie laughed. All of a sudden, she remembered what it was like to be in the seventh grade – the year before Lucy and her parents moved to Tulsa. She remembered what it was like to feel strangely alone. She knew it was strange, too, because she wasn't alone. She had three brothers, including a twin whom she loved more than anyone in the world. Her brothers had friends, and since the (failed) dance that year, she'd been getting closer and closer to Johnny Cade. Her brothers' friends had wonderful sisters, like Jane, who had only ever loved and adored Sadie. And though Sadie loved and adored Jane, too (plus all the other sisters in the gang), it had never been quite … _perfect_. There were things Sadie wanted to talk about, like art and books and music, that she couldn't talk about with Jane and the other girls. They just didn't like exactly the same things she did. Their sense of humor didn't quite match up with hers. It wasn't anyone's fault, and even though she was only thirteen, Sadie knew that. She just wanted to feel like someone was seeing the parts of her that she felt like she had to keep secret. When Lucy came around, she knew she'd found that someone. And suddenly, Sadie Curtis had everything. She wasn't sure what was going to happen in a few months when she no longer had everything.

"It's possible," Sadie said with a small laugh. "Are you ready to go upstairs now, or should I wait?"

"Wait just a minute," Lucy said. "I'm going to call Eddie."

She took a deep breath – the kind of deep breath you take when you're preparing to shout.

"Eddie!"

And poor, awkward, shopkeeper Eddie came stumbling out of the back of the store.

"Oh, jeez, Lucy," he said. "Sometimes, I think you forget you're not the boss around here."

"Eddie, I'm the boss everywhere," Lucy said. "That's part of working with me. Would it be OK if I left the floor for the last half hour? Sadie's here, and she wants to see Elenore."

"Sure," Eddie said. "You want me to go get Elenore and bring her down here?"

"No."

"Call upstairs to your husband and have him bring her down?"

"Am I a rich asshole? No."

Eddie made a face, and Lucy decided she didn't know what that meant.

"Are you sure that's what you want to do?" Eddie asked.

"Yes, I'm sure," Lucy said. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Although Eddie opened his mouth to object, Lucy wouldn't hear it. She waved Sadie on, and the two of them headed upstairs to Lucy and Dally's apartment.

"I told Elenore this morning that you were coming to visit," Lucy said. "She's so excited. She and Dally are in the living room right now. When I was up there last, he was reading to her out of my Restoration Drama anthology."

"Cool," Sadie said. "Does Dally still think he's a rake?"

"He does, and I don't have it in me to tell him he's wrong."

Sadie laughed, and Lucy unlocked the door without thinking very much about what she was doing. She swung the door open to find Dally and Elenore sitting on the couch in the middle of the otherwise empty living room. Though she smiled to see them sitting there, at first, she felt Sadie stop in her tracks and go numb by her side. Lucy's smile quickly fell.

"Oh, shit," she said.

Sadie looked around at the apartment – the one she used to know so well. Everything she loved about it was gone now. It was all packed up in little boxes stacked up and around the living room. All that was left was the couch and the bed. She kept looking around in horror, feeling too hazy to cry or to even form any words. She felt Lucy's eyes on her, and after what felt like a year or two, Sadie finally met Lucy's gaze.

"I …" Lucy started to say, but Sadie wouldn't let her.

"When?" she asked.

"When what?"

"_When _a lot of things. When did you pack up everything you own? When are you leaving? Because it sure as hell isn't August 1 if all your shit is packed up now."

"Sadie …"

"_When_?"

Lucy took a deep breath. This was about right. She remembered, now, why she'd felt dread when she came upon Sadie and Johnny's house the evening before. She had meant to tell Sadie the truth then. She had never meant for her to _see _it. But maybe that was what Lucy had wanted all along. To tell her – to even think about telling her – was enough to strike pain in her heart. It was easier this way. It was easier to pretend like it was a misunderstanding and to let Sadie connect the dots all by herself. This must have been what Lucy wanted. She got her wish. Lucy _always _got her wish. This must have been what she wanted. And she hated every bit of it.

"We're leaving the day after the wedding," Lucy said.

Sadie exhaled shortly. She blinked to avoid shedding a single tear. When your best friend lies to you for months on end, you can't just cry about the fact that you're going to lose her. It had to be worse than crying, as Sadie swiftly discovered.

"Of course you are," she said. Her voice was thick and hushed.

Lucy looked past Sadie and toward Dally and Elenore.

"Dally," she said. "Take Elenore and go."

"Since when am I takin' orders?" he said but got up from the couch with Elenore by his side, anyway.

"Since you're married to me," Lucy said. "I don't care where you go. Just be gone for an hour."

"This won't take an hour," Sadie said, and her tone slashed Lucy's chest.

"Be gone for an hour," Lucy said anyway. Even if Sadie wasn't going to fight with her for an hour, Lucy knew she'd need the hour for herself.

Elenore let go of her father's hand and walked toward Sadie. She looked up at her godmother with her big, beautiful, unaware eyes and asked, "But you play with me?"

Lucy covered her face so that Sadie wouldn't see her start to cry. Sadie took a deep breath and got down on her knees to meet Elenore's eye line. She might have been three, but she deserved respect.

"I'll play with you soon," Sadie said.

"Ya promise?"

Sadie blinked a few more times. You just couldn't cry in a moment like this. She drew Elenore close to her and kissed her cheek.

"I'll see you soon, baby," she said. "I love you."

"Love you."

Dally held out his hand for Elenore to take it, and she did.

"C'mon, bud," he said. "Your ma's got some work to do."

"What work?" Elenore asked.

"I'll tell ya later."

A few seconds later, they were gone, and Lucy and Sadie were left in complete silence. They stood parallel to one another. Both were too tired, too afraid, and too angry to make the first move. To the surprise of neither, Lucy lunged forward first. To the surprise of both, Sadie cut her off.

"No, stop it," Sadie snapped. "I don't need to hear whatever it is you planned to say."

"Sadie," Lucy said, though Sadie cut her off. It was a good thing, too. She didn't have much else to say. Lucy knew she didn't have a leg to stand on, and it killed her. She hated to lose. She hated to lose, but if she was going to, she was glad that it would be to Sadie.

"_Shut up_," Sadie said, gritting her teeth and feeling too much like she did when she was sixteen (the last time she and Lucy really fought like this). "Is this how you wanted to tell me? You weren't going to sit me down and tell me the truth like a _normal person_? You were going to lead me into your apartment like you had no idea it was all boxed up and have me just _discover it_?"

"That was never my plan," Lucy said. "I was going to tell you."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yes."

"When? Because my brother's getting married on Friday."

Lucy hung her head. She figured the best thing to do here was to stand back and lose the fight. There wasn't a fight to be had. She had done the wrong thing, and now, it was time to take her lumps. If anything, a part of her was glad. The fact that Sadie was this upset about what she'd done showed her just how much Sadie cared – just how much Sadie would continue to care even after this was all over. Because a tiny, whispery voice in the back of Lucy's mind assured her that this fight would, in fact, be over. The two of them loved each other too much to let it wreck them. She'd just have to stand back and hurt for a while, but it was worth it. It was worth it if it meant she'd get to keep Sadie around.

"I wanted to tell you," Lucy said.

"Did you really want to tell me, though?" Sadie asked. "Because my brother's getting married _on Friday_, and I had no idea that my best friend was leaving home for the other side of the country _on Saturday_. So, what was your plan?"

Lucy bit her tongue and then let it go again. Just because there wasn't a fight to be had didn't mean she would keep herself from yelling.

"OK, so, I didn't _want _to tell you!" she shouted, not caring whether or not there were still customers downstairs in the store. "But can you blame me? Who _wants _to tell their best friend they're moving too far away?"

_If it's too far away, why are you leaving_? Sadie thought, though she knew she couldn't say it. This was the time to stand her ground.

"No one _wants _that!" Sadie yelled back. "No one! But you do. Do you know why? Because it's the right fucking thing to do. The wrong fucking thing to do is keep it a secret and expect me to be OK with it when you're on your way out!"

"Don't you think I know that?"

"No! Because it's five days until you move, and I just found out!"

Sadie took a step back and breathed in desperately. She hadn't realized how much air this would take up. She hadn't been this angry with Lucy since right before her first date with Johnny back in '65, and now, Sadie knew she hadn't even been that angry then. This was different. She could hardly see straight. All she wanted to do was beat the tar out of Lucy for keeping her in the dark for so long. Then again, all she wanted to do was fold herself up small and ride in a suitcase all the way to New York with her. In eight years, they'd hardly been apart. As she stopped to breathe, she almost felt where Lucy was coming from by keeping this a secret from her, but she didn't let herself go that far. It was too early, she thought, to give Lucy the benefit of the doubt.

"Just explain it to me," Sadie said. "Explain to me what the hell you were thinking by keeping this a secret from me."

Lucy sighed. It was about all she could do. She threw her hands behind her back and clasped them together. She didn't want to find herself making any involuntary fists when it came to a fight with Sadie.

"I don't know," she said.

Sadie snorted with the same contempt Darry had tried on the day before.

"Yeah, that's a great answer," Sadie said.

"Listen to me," Lucy said, though she realized she didn't necessarily deserve to be listened to. "I don't know what I was thinking. It was a lot of things, and none of them were complete. I'm not saying that as an excuse. I'm saying that because it's the truth."

"And when was the last time you told me the truth?"

"Don't be that way."

"Well, then, how should I be? You _lied _to me. How long were you lying to me, anyway?"

Lucy took another deep breath.

"I found out at the end of March that my assistantship training starts on May 18," she said. "Dally and I put down a security deposit on an apartment the next day."

Sadie hung her head in disbelief.

"The end of March," she said. "The fucking end of March. You've known when you were leaving since the end of March, and you didn't bother to tell me."

"Sadie …"

"Don't say my name like that. I'm the only person here. I know you're talking to me."

Lucy closed her eyes and tried to find the best words. Unfortunately, all the best words were gone, and she was left with shame, regret, and bullshit. Bullshit, at this point, had to be better than nothing. She breathed in one more time and began to speak.

"I wanted to tell you that day," she said.

"So, then, why didn't you?" Sadie asked.

"Because it wasn't that simple."

"It seems pretty simple to me. 'Hey, Sadie, I got an assistantship at NYU. They need me to start training on May 18. That means I have to move the day after Darry and Lynnie's wedding.' How hard is that?"

"It's really fucking hard!"

"But _why_? Make me understand _why_. I am your _best friend_. I've always been your best friend, even when you could barely see past yourself and were so _fucking _hard to be friends with! What made you think I wouldn't support you leaving home and going after what you want? I've only _ever _supported you going after what you want!"

"It's not that I thought you wouldn't be supportive!"

"Then what the fuck is it?"

"It's because I don't know what my life looks like without you in it!"

Lucy stepped back and covered her mouth with her hands. She couldn't believe she'd been that open – that forthright. It had always been hell for her to open up. Maybe that was why she'd married the toughest man in Tulsa. He made her look soft, and for once in her life, she wanted to be the understanding one.

"Fifteen fucking years," Lucy said. "Fifteen fucking years, my parents moved from town to town and state to state for my dad's job. I lived in small towns and big cities, and I met so many kids. But I never had any friends. And it wasn't even that I didn't have the time to make them, knowing how quickly I'd inevitably have to leave. It was that no one liked me. It was that I was unlikable. I was loud and mean and weird and no one wanted to be friends with me."

"Save your fucking sob stories," Sadie said. "I've heard them all before."

"No, you fucking well haven't," Lucy said back. "You know about when I beat the shit out of the Nixon supporter in Ohio. You know about how I got arrested and how the judge made me carry around a book everywhere I went. But you don't know what my life was like after I got back to school. That was seventh grade. And in seventh grade, I thought I had a friend. Her name was Carolyn, and I really liked her. She liked to read, and she liked to write stories. When she grew up, she wanted to be a historian. She believed in ghosts, too, which was really strange, and she told me not to tell anyone, but I haven't seen her since I was thirteen, so I'm going to assume it's OK to tell you now."

"Lucy."

"I'm sorry. But I was happy. I thought I'd finally found a friend, and even we would have to move again, I figured it was OK. Carolyn and I would still be friends. But after the incident in the cafeteria, and after I got arrested, she didn't want anything to do with me. And since she'd been my only friend, people asked her questions about me. She told people that there was no way I was a professor's child, and actually, my parents had purchased me from one of the Market Street Commandos who didn't want me. It made my life a living hell, and for the rest of the school year, people either snickered at me or made motorcycle noises in my direction. And all because someone I thought was my friend had decided to back away from me. When I confronted her about it, she said that it was better to make fun of me than get caught being friends with the girl who got arrested in the cafeteria.

"But then, as it turned out, all I had to do was wait two years. Because two years after that, my dad got a tenure-track job at TU, and we moved here. And I didn't even need to wait a full school day to find someone because you were in my last-period English class. And after I met you, I knew that nothing could ever be that bad again because with you, I had someone who wanted to be around me. You didn't care that I was loud and weird and mean, and when you did, you said something about it. You came with all these wonderful people – your brothers, their friends, their sisters – and it was like I'd been on my way here all my life and hadn't even realized it. But in the middle of all that, there was always you, the person I loved most. You were the first person besides my own parents who wanted anything to do with me. And I don't tell you enough, but it means the world to me that you answered my question about what you were reading on my first day of school."

Sadie bit down on her tongue. There was plenty she could say to Lucy in that moment. She could tell her that she was sorry her friend Carolyn in Ohio had been such a bust. She could tell her that she felt like Lucy was the first person who really understood her, too. She could tell her that she loved her, and everything would be OK. But she was too angry. Every time she thought about Lucy moving the day after the wedding, her heart would lurch and burn. She couldn't just let Lucy get away with this. Sadie had let Lucy get away with _everything _since the day they met. This time, Lucy would hurt in the same way Sadie did.

"I think that's a lot of stuff," Sadie said. "And I think I'm sorry that you felt like you had nowhere to go or nowhere to be before you moved here. But there's so much you're not paying attention to."

"What am I not paying attention to?" Lucy asked.

"You're not paying attention to _me_. Look around. Do you think I really fit in with the other girls around here until you came around? Jane and I are the same age, and I love her, but my interests have never really been in the 'I pickpocket and shoplift' arena. Carrie only ever wanted to spend time with Ponyboy, and there's no getting in between Katie and Lilly. I love them all. You know I do. But when you showed up … it finally felt like someone was seeing _Sadie_, not _Soda's ugly twin sister_."

"You are _not _..."

"Yeah, I don't really need to hear that right now. It's not the fucking point. The fucking point is that you lied to me, and I don't know what the hell I'm supposed to do without you around everyday, either. And, what? You thought that was good enough? You'd leave me twisting in the wind, wondering where you went until I finally just _assumed_? Did you think I'd come over to Great Books one day, looking for you, and fucking _Eddie _would have to tell me that you took off for New York City? Permanently? Without saying so much as _goodbye_?"

"That's not …"

"And don't tell me that's not what you planned because you clearly didn't plan much else."

Lucy closed her eyes again. She still didn't have a leg to stand on, and she was still willing to take the hit. It just _hurt_.

"Am I the first one to learn about this?" Sadie asked.

When Lucy opened her eyes and bit her bottom lip, Sadie knew that she wasn't.

"Oh, no," she said.

"I didn't tell anyone," Lucy said. "Well, we told Violet …"

"You told _Violet Winston_, and you didn't tell me?"

"She's my sister-in-law!"

"And I'm your best friend! I've been there for you more than anyone. I got you to the hospital when you went into labor. I dared you to marry your husband, which is the best decision you ever made! I defended you when you were a know-it-all piece of shit! It's always been me."

"Good to know eight years of friendship have been all about you. Good to know that you've been treating what we have like a fucking scoreboard."

"I haven't, and you damn well know it. But this. This is the kind of thing that makes me want to start."

Sadie folded her arms across her chest. She knew she was acting like a child, but she didn't care. By keeping her real moving date a secret, Lucy was acting like a child, too. Sadie figured it was only fair to repay her with the same bullshit.

"Who else knows, huh?" Sadie asked. "Am I the last to know?"

"No," Lucy said.

"But I'm not the second to know, either, am I?"

Lucy sighed. There was no use in continuing to lie.

"Lilly figured it out when she came to visit me a few nights ago," Lucy said. "She saw the boxes. I wasn't careful, just like I wasn't careful when I brought you up here. She went and told Katie and Two-Bit because she's Lilly, and she can't keep a fucking secret."

"And what about Darry and Lynnie?" Sadie asked. "You're leaving after _their _wedding. Do they know?"

"Two-Bit told Darry after Lilly told him. I told Lynnie yesterday."

Sadie shook her head.

"Dammit," she muttered. "Is that it, then? Does anyone else know?"

Lucy got quiet, and Sadie knew exactly what her silence meant.

"Oh, no," she said. "You're not serious."

"Sadie …"

"Stop saying my name like that! Johnny or Soda? Which one of them knew before I did?"

Lucy was quiet again, and Sadie knew exactly what that silence meant, too. She blinked to avoid more tears, but they were stinging her eyes and needed to go somewhere. She started to cry even though she was far from proud of it.

"You've got to be kidding," she said. "Both of them? _How_?"

"I guess Johnny overheard Dally and me talking about how I was going to break the news to you about a week ago," Lucy said. "I had no idea he was in the shop. He was hiding. I wouldn't have said a word if I'd known he was there."

"He didn't tell me," Sadie said. "First, my best friend doesn't tell me. Then, my husband doesn't tell me. What the fuck is this? What's going on?"

"I'm sure he was just trying to protect you."

"From what? From this? Because he didn't do a very good job. Neither of you fucking did."

She stopped and inhaled. She closed her eyes to ask the next question because she didn't want to make eye contact with Lucy when he heard the answer.

"What about Soda?" she asked. "How did he find out?"

The sound of Lucy's deep breath did not bode well for Sadie.

"I told him," she said. "A few days ago. I just … I was weak, and I told him."

Sadie opened her eyes, but she couldn't quite see through them. By now, she was crying too hard. The idea that the three people she'd loved most in the world were working to keep secrets from her was too much to grin and bear. She cried until her vision blurred.

Lucy wanted to reach out and comfort Sadie, but she knew it was no use. It was like running your best friend's cat over in the street, Lucy figured. You might feel terribly about it, but that didn't mean your best friend would be immediately willing to accept your comfort again. She thought back to her conversation with Darry from the evening before. Maybe he'd been right. Maybe Sadie was more like him than Lucy ever realized. Maybe once she left, Sadie really wouldn't welcome her back.

"I don't understand," Sadie said. "What did I do to make people keep all these secrets from me?"

"You didn't do anything," Lucy said. "When I kept this from you, it was about _me_. It wasn't about you at all."

"Of course it was about you. Everything's about you. When Johnny and I started dating in high school – that was about you and your aversion to young marriage, never mind that you were the first one of us to get married."

"You _dared _us."

"And you jumped at the fucking chance. Don't flatter yourself. You were a hypocrite, and you knew it."

Lucy looked down at the floor. She hated that Sadie had a point. She hated that it was such a good one.

"For once in our fucking lives, I'd like it if something _were _about me," Sadie said. "But you're not really capable of that, are you?"

"That's a horrible thing to say," Lucy said.

"And it's a horrible thing for you to lie to me the way you've been lying to me for a month and a fucking half, but here we are."

"No, _shut up_. You think I've never been there for you? You think I've never done anything for you or made something about you? Who made arrangements when you went into labor last year? Who held you while you cried in the middle of the store because you were overwhelmed thinking about how you were pregnant, Soda was gone, and Johnny would've shipped out, too, if not for Michael?"

"It's funny how you can only think of two things in the past two years, and yet, you've been around for eight."

"Can you cut me a damn break, please? I'm not at the top of my game here."

"No, I can't cut you a break. You lied to me. You were going to leave, and you weren't going to say anything. That's not something I can just let go."

"But _why_?"

Sadie stared at Lucy, stunned.

"Why?" she repeated. Her voice was tinted with disgust.

"Yeah," Lucy said, swallowing hard. "You keep saying it. You're my best friend. I'm your best friend. It's been this way for the past eight years. Why can't you let it go?"

Sadie sniffed, trying to avoid shedding even more tears. This wasn't worth crying over. Liars weren't worth crying over, and Sadie couldn't _stand _liars. She remembered once when she was a kid, and Darry lied to her about what had happened to Soda's horse, Mickey Mouse. When she found out he'd been sold to a guy who could really afford him (instead of that he ran away to be free with the wild horses, like Darry had told her), she refused to speak to Darry for two weeks. She refused to speak to Darry, and he was her big brother, whom she loved. If she could avoid her big brother for that long, heaven knew she could avoid Lucy for much longer. Lucy wasn't blood. She deserved it.

"Because think about what you did to me," Sadie said, trying and failing to make sure that her voice didn't wobble. "When you kept this a secret from me, you pretty much said my friendship wasn't worth keeping."

Lucy's heart shattered. For the past five years or so, she thought that nothing would hurt worse than if Dally decided he couldn't pretend to be Mr. Domestic anymore … if he left her and Elenore. But as she found out in a split second, that wouldn't hurt quite so much as what Sadie had just said. It wouldn't hurt quite so much as losing Sadie.

"That's not what I meant," Lucy said.

She was crying now. She didn't give a damn who saw or who told someone else about it. Sadie Curtis was worth crying over.

"Well, it's how I took it," Sadie said. "You're studying literature. You know interpretation counts for a lot."

"You mean everything to me. You know that. You _have _to know that."

Then, Sadie hurled herself toward Lucy. Though Lucy was prepared for Sadie to hit her, she was surprised to find that Sadie wrapped her up in a hug. Lucy was too stunned to hug back.

"I love you, Lucy," she said. "I love you so much. But I can't be around you."

As Lucy tried to respond, Sadie let go of her and made her way toward the door. Once Sadie's hand was on the doorknob, Lucy finally found some of the right words to say.

"I love you, too," she said. "Will you be back?"

But all Sadie did was shrug.

"I don't know," she said. "Will you tell Elenore I love her?"

Lucy couldn't speak anymore. All she did was nod.

"Good," Sadie said, and she was out the door.

Even as she walked away and left Lucy heartbroken, there was a part of Lucy that was proud of Sadie. In the eight years they'd been together, she wasn't sure Sadie had ever given herself the last word. And yet, she just had.

In that moment, Lucy was so proud of Sadie that all she wanted was for her to come back.

* * *

"Are you sure it's a good idea?"

"No, but what else are you going to do on Friday night?"

Katie and Blossom sat close to one another on Blossom's couch that evening. Earlier that day, Katie had talked to Lynnie and Darry about whether or not she could invite Blossom, her new girlfriend, to the wedding. As it turned out, Lucy and Lynnie's historically flaky Aunt Edith had bailed at the last minute for some stupendous last-minute professional commitment, which left a whole dinner paid for with no one to eat it. Luckily, it was a vegetarian dinner, and when Katie asked if it could maybe go to Blossom, Lynnie had been overjoyed to extend the invitation. Darry seemed OK with it, too, though after knowing him for her entire life, Katie was quite certain that most of Darry's excitement came from the fact that they wouldn't be wasting money or food. He was born before the end of the Second World War, after all.

"I just don't want anyone to judge you," Blossom said.

"Judge me?" Katie asked. "Why in the world would they judge me?"

"Oh, I don't know. Could have something to do with the fact that you make out with girls, and girls aren't _supposed to _do that."

To Blossom's surprise, Katie rolled her eyes. Later, Blossom would have to tell her that the eye rolling wasn't the kindest of gestures and that just because her coming out had been relatively smooth didn't mean coming out was a smooth process on the whole, but not yet.

"Oh, please," Katie said. "We won't be comin' up against any of _those _people. And if, by some chance, we do … well, I can just get my friend Dally to punch 'em in the jaw."

"The more you talk about your friend Dally, the more I worry about your friend Dally," Blossom said. "How is he not in prison?"

"He's been in jail before," Katie said. "But he ain't in prison because the Curtis twins dared him to marry the girl he liked, and they had a baby who he stuck around to raise. It's really not that hard to keep straight."

"I need you to understand how untrue that is."

Katie shrugged.

"Well, either way," she said. "Nobody at Darry and Lynnie's wedding is gonna pull any shit like that. They'll all be real happy to meet ya. I've told stories about ya, and I think they'll be real happy to put a name together with a face."

Blossom slowly nodding like she was still chewing on something.

"Your brother's a sweetie," she said. "He made me feel right at home when I met him."

Katie beamed.

"That's Two-Bit," she said. "He's got a quality about him that I just can't explain."

"A certain _je ne sais quois_," Blossom offered in a perfect French accent.

"Yeah, I'm not even gonna try to repeat that."

"I know, sweetie."

Katie blushed. Since she was ten years old, she'd been dreaming of the day that the prettiest girl in the world would sit next to her on the couch, be her date to a wedding, and call her something like _sweetie_. She'd always fantasized that the girl in question might be Jane, but as it turned out, it wasn't Jane at all. It was Blossom McCourt. And there was no one in the world better, smarter, and prettier than Blossom McCourt.

Suddenly (Was it so sudden?), Blossom frowned.

"But then we met Lilly and her brother," she said. "And I know Lilly's your best friend, but I don't think she took to me."

"I'm so sorry about that," Katie said. "Lilly's going through a lot right now."

"Yeah, you keep saying that. But then you don't tell me what it is she's going through, and that leaves me with the space to make _a lot _of assumptions I think you'd prefer it if I didn't make."

"Lilly doesn't hate lesbians, OK? She doesn't know very much about what it means to be a lesbian, or anything that's not straight, really, but she doesn't hate lesbians."

"I'm going to try to believe you. I'm still worried that you won't tell me what it is about her."

Katie sighed. It was all she could do when Blossom had her pinned like this.

"Look, I want to," she said. "But Lilly's my best friend. I've known her all my life. She has a secret, and I can't just run around revealing Lilly's secrets, even if I _am _one of the biggest gossips on the East Side."

It caught Katie completely off guard, but Blossom leaned forward, grabbed her by the cheeks, and kissed her lips quickly. When their kiss was over, Katie felt her head spin. She figured it was a good sign.

"And I have to admire that about you," Blossom said. "I _do _admire it about you. It's just frustrating."

"Why's that?" Katie asked.

"Because before I met you, and before I moved here, I was one of the biggest gossips in _my _town."

Katie laughed, and Blossom followed suit.

"Ya know what they say," Katie said. "Birds of a feather."

"Flock together?"

"Huh?"

"That's the whole saying. 'Birds of a feather flock together.'"

"Oh. Well, then, why don't people say the whole thing?"

"The rest of the sentence is implied."

"Since _when_?"

"I don't know. Since a long time ago."

"Well, how come I've never heard it?"

"Because you can't hear over the sound of your own gossip."

That was when Katie grabbed Blossom's face and kissed her back. Blossom wasn't quite so surprised. Katie Mathews had a rhythm about her. It was another thing Blossom couldn't help but admire.

"Fine," Blossom said. "I'll come to your friends' wedding."

"Thank goodness!" Katie said. "It would mean a lot to me if you met my friends. They love me; they'll love you, too."

Blossom smiled at Katie with a particular look in her eye. Even though Katie wasn't always quick on the uptake, she knew exactly what the look in Blossom's eye must mean. She backed off and rubbed the back of her neck nervously.

"I mean, not like …" she said. "It's been, what? Ten days?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Blossom said, but her playful tone suggested she knew _exactly _what Katie was talking about.

"Uh, then … forget it. Forget it all."

"I will. _Tabula rasa_."

Katie nodded, too nervous to ask what _tabula rasa _meant. She wondered if this was how Dally felt being married to Lucy.

There was a knock on the door, and Blossom made a face.

"That's weird," she said. "It's past mail delivery time, and the only person I know in this city is you."

Another knock. Then, a voice from behind the door.

"Katie!" the voice shouted.

Katie's ears perked in both horror and intrigue. _Lilly_.

"Katie!" Lilly called again. "Katie, I know you're in there. I swung by your place, and Two-Bit told me where to find you. Open the door, would ya? I need to see you."

Nervously, Katie tore her gaze away from the front door and toward Blossom, who looked plainly exhausted by the mere sound of Lilly Cade's voice.

"Can I let her in?" Katie asked (and immediately berated herself for sounding so much like a child in front of her intellectual and sophisticated girlfriend).

Blossom shrugged.

"I don't know," she said. "I really don't know if I can handle being spoken to or about the way Lilly spoke to and about me before."

"I know I was a jerk to Blossom before, but that's kind of what I'm here for," came Lilly's voice on the other side of the door.

Katie bit her lip to keep from giggling, and Blossom sighed heavily. She stood up from the couch and walked over to the door. When she answered it, Lilly looked scared out of her wits.

"Yeah?" Blossom asked.

"Oh," Lilly said, suddenly very sheepish. "I … I didn't realize you'd be the one to come to the door."

"It's my house," Blossom said. "Katie's welcome here, but that doesn't mean she can just go around answering the door for people."

Lilly nodded anxiously.

"Right!" she said, adding a shrill laugh that she hated more than anything. "That … that makes sense. So … am I welcome here, too?"

Blossom craned her neck back into the living room where Katie was eavesdropping and nodding so forcefully that Blossom was momentarily scared her head might fall off.

"Sure," she said and stepped aside to let Lilly in. "If you really mean it about apologizing, that is."

"Oh, I mean it," Lilly said as she walked through the doorway.

She stopped Blossom and grabbed her by the forearms. Blossom tried to twist out of Lilly's sudden and overly familiar hold, but when she saw the look in Katie's eyes (the one that said, "I know this is bizarre, but she's my best friend. Indulge her."), she kindly acquiesced.

"Listen," Lilly said. "I know Katie's probably made a million excuses for me already."

Blossom's eyes floated over to Katie.

"Has it been a million?" she asked.

Katie shrugged.

"Ah, give or take," she said.

"Give or take," Blossom repeated. "But they've all been really vague. She's protecting some secret of yours."

Lilly nodded. That sounded like Katie. The two of them had particularly strong reputations for being the two biggest gossips on the East Side of Tulsa, but what most people (not even Carrie, Sadie, Jane, and Lucy) didn't know about them was that they'd go to any length to keep each other's secrets. When Katie got caught cheating on a chemistry test in the eleventh grade, and the teacher told her that he'd let her off scot free if she just gave him the name of the person who provided her with the answers, Katie took a weeklong suspension to protect Lilly. That was a year after Katie found out Dally had gone to jail so that Two-Bit could stay free and take care of her. Her taking the fall was about protecting Lilly's name, but it was as much about showing Dally she was grateful for what he did, somehow.

"Well, she don't gotta protect me no more," Lilly said (and immediately wondered whether she should have put on her best grammar in order to impress Katie's new anthropologist girlfriend). "Listen. A lot of shit's goin' down for me right now. For one thing, the man I've been in love with since I was six years old is just days away from proposin' to a white woman. He happens to be Katie's brother."

Blossom looked at Katie, and her expression suggested that Katie had never told her about this before.

"I told you," Katie said. "Her secrets are her secrets. It's up to her whether she wants to share 'em."

And despite her frustrations, Blossom couldn't help but smile at Katie. She wondered if there were better, kinder, or stronger people in the world and figured there weren't. Katie Mathews was the best of them.

"And to top it all off," Lilly continued, "I'm pregnant, and I don't got a _clue _who the father is – just that it ain't Katie's brother, which is its own brand of frustratin'."

Blossom turned to Katie again, and Katie was still grinning and shrugging.

"Oh, what a life she leads!" Katie said. She couldn't help but laugh.

Blossom took a deep breath and whirled back around to face Lilly, who was oddly smiling at her like there was something she knew that Blossom never would. She raised one eyebrow and looked Lilly Cade up and down.

"Why're you telling me all of this?" she asked. "You don't even know me."

"You're right," Lilly said. "I don't. And the way I acted at Jay's the other day, you'd think I didn't want to. But that's not true. I do. I want to know the person in my best friend's life, even if you just landed back in her life a week and a half ago."

"Then why did you treat me like chopped fucking liver?" Blossom asked (and immediately regretted swearing in front of a woman she didn't even know).

"Because I'm worried about growin' up just like everybody else right now," Lilly said. "Preparing for the wedding of your most responsible friend will do that to ya. When Katie brought you around, I was jealous that she had somebody, and all I have is nobody. Not to mention you're brilliant, and I'm just … _Lilly_. All of that, plus everything else … ya met a version of me I don't like."

As Lilly poured her heart out in front of Blossom, a woman she didn't even know, Katie sat back and felt her heart soar. This was exactly the reason she'd decided to stay best friends with Lilly Cade even after they weren't little kids anymore. This was exactly the reason she'd be best friends with Lilly Cade until the day they both died (She still assumed, of course, that their fifth-grade pact to die on the same day was valid.). Even after she screwed up, she'd go above and beyond if it meant Katie was happy. And Katie knew she'd do the same for Lilly.

She just wished she'd done more of it before Two-Bit met Laura Lubbock.

"I'm sorry," Lilly said. "I'm sorry to both of ya."

Katie stood up and walked into the middle of both of them – her best friend and her girlfriend. She wrapped her arms around both of their shoulders, careful not to lean into one more than the other. In that moment, it was important they felt like colleagues.

"Dare I say it," Katie said, "but I think this is gonna work out."

When Lilly winked at her, Katie knew she was right.

* * *

Because Sadie was too angry to talk to Johnny (Husbands were _not _built to keep important information like that from their wives.), she found herself at the front door of her childhood home once again. She knocked once, and to her immediate pleasure and horror, Soda answered the door.

"Hey, Sadie Lou," he said, sounding so much like himself that Sadie almost forgot why she was upset in the first place. "What brings you here?"

Sadie frowned, and Soda thought maybe he knew, after all.

"You knew about Lucy's real moving date," she said.

Soda sighed and stepped aside to let Sadie in. He figured it was time for a long talk with his twin sister.

"Look," he said. "I don't mean to excuse what she did 'cause I don't agree with it. But I only found out a few days ago."

"And you didn't think to tell me?" Sadie asked. "I'm your _twin_. We're supposed to tell each other things like this!"

"I wanted to!" Soda said. "But Lucy made me promise not to so she could tell you herself."

"Yeah, and then more days went by, and she didn't. So, what? I was supposed to just … never find out? What the hell kinda sense does that make?"

Soda sat down on the couch and motioned for Sadie to come and sit next to him in her usual spot. Somewhat reluctantly, she followed suit.

"It don't make any sense," Soda said. "None of this makes any sense, and I'm sorry it's happenin'. I'm sorry it's happenin' to all of us."

"But _you knew_. You knew for days, and you never told me."

"I didn't think it was my place."

"It's always your place! We shared a womb! I don't think the same rules about boundaries apply to us after that!"

Sadie stopped and closed her eyes, trying to gather her thoughts. She couldn't stop thinking about what must have gone through Lucy's head when she decided to tell Soda about the move and not her. As far as Sadie could tell, Soda was the only person Lucy had actually told except for Violet. That was a choice. She'd told Soda about the move and kept Sadie in the dark on purpose. She'd chosen him over her, just like everyone always did. That was what she first loved about Lucy. No matter what, Lucy always chose Sadie over Soda. It had been that way since the day they met. But now, things were different. Now, Lucy was going behind Sadie's back and telling Soda the things she used to only share with her. Lucy had never made Sadie feel like the ugly twin until that Monday in May.

"I just don't get it," Sadie said. "Why would she tell you and not me?"

"I've got a few ideas," Soda said.

"Really?"

"Sadie Lou, don't be that way."

"No, I'm serious. If you have ideas about why my best friend went behind my back, lied to me, and told you the truth instead, I'd love to hear 'em. Because I am just fuckin' baffled."

Soda bit his tongue to keep from giggling at the word _baffled_ (It was just so funny!) and looked Sadie right in the eye. He hadn't planned on telling her that day, but it was the only way he knew how to explain what had happened with Lucy. He took a deep breath, well aware that once he said it, he couldn't turn back, and he spoke.

"I think I died and saw Mom when I got shot," Soda said.

He'd said it all in one harsh go and felt out of breath when it was done. When he looked at Sadie, she looked more perplexed than hurt. It took a little while for her to say anything, but when she did, all she asked was, "What?"

"I think ya heard me," Soda said. "When I got shot in Vietnam, I think I died and saw Mom. When I was dead, I thought I heard her say, 'I always knew you'd go first.' And then I woke up in a hospital bed."

Sadie's eyes filled with tears again. For a moment, she let herself forget about Lucy and how angry she was that Soda had known the truth days before she did. She moved closer to him and grabbed his hand, and he squeezed tightly. It was right.

"Oh, Soda," she said. "I don't even know what to say."

"I know," Soda said. "It's a weird thing, ain't it? I mean, in one way, it was real good to see Mom. In another, kinda scary to hear that she thinks I'm gonna die before the three-a you. And in another … well, there just ain't no way that was real, is it?"

"No," Sadie said. "I mean, not like, 'No, it wasn't real.' I mean 'No' as in … just because it feels like it shouldn't be real don't mean it wasn't. Ya know?"

Soda nodded. It was the kind of thing you couldn't be articulate about, even if you were as smart as Sadie. He squeezed his sister's hand tighter.

"I do," he said. "But since I got back, it's all I can think about. All I can think about is how I almost died. All I can think about was that it was almost all over, and I wasn't even twenty-one yet. So, when I woke up, I was scared."

"Of what?" Sadie asked. "That you might get hurt again?"

"That I might die and not come back this time. I dunno what was goin' through my mind, Sadie Lou, but I felt like … if I didn't get home and act like I was a real man, then maybe I'd get to stay alive a little longer. It didn't make sense. Your mind can't trick the rest-a you into thinkin' you're a little kid. But I was so fucked up, I could've sworn it was gonna help."

"That's why Jane had to propose to you," Sadie said. "That's why you haven't been able to connect with us in the same way you've been able to connect to …"

"Elenore," Soda finished for her. "Yeah. But I figure … now that my little friend is goin' away, and I don't know when I'm gonna see her next … I gotta start actin' like a real man. What's that Four Seasons song?"

"'Walk Like a Man.' Dad loved that song."

"I remember. Well, it's my new anthem now, so I'm sure wherever he is, he's proud. I just don't wanna go there myself any time soon."

Sadie tried to smile, but it just came out lopsided and sad. She looked at Soda through the few tears she still had in her eyes.

"You're not gonna," she said. "There's a reason ya came back here. You were supposed to. I dunno why any of us are here, really, but it's a Monday evening, which is probably not the best time to think about life and God and why we even bother with existence."

Soda laughed a little. Leave it to Sadie to make him laugh when all he wanted to do was break down and be the bawl baby he was before.

"You've always been the funny one of us kids," Soda said. "Don't tell Pony, though. He thinks it's him."

"Are you kiddin'? My whole life's been dedicated to protectin' Pony. If I ain't said a word before, I sure as hell ain't gonna say a word now."

Soda laughed again, and as Sadie was about to formulate a response about how there was no need to keep her in the dark about something she would have helped him get through as best as she could, Soda spoke instead.

"I told Lucy about this before I told you," he said.

Sadie's heart fell to her knees, and she suddenly remembered why she'd been so upset before.

"You're fuckin' kidding me," she said. There was so much vitriol in her voice that it scared the hell out of Soda.

"I ain't," he said, trying to keep his voice strong and sturdy. He had a point, after all.

"Why would you do that? What made the two of you think ya couldn't trust me with your secrets? When have I _ever _gotten involved when I shouldn't? When have I ever been anything but supportive of the two-a ya? I can't fuckin' stand this. I won't fuckin' stand for it."

She gripped the couch and tried to stand up, but Soda wouldn't let her.

"That's not what I was thinkin'," he said.

"Oh, really?" Sadie asked. "Tell me what you _were_ thinkin', then. Because it sounds like my best friend and my twin brother decided they'd confide in each other on the one condition nobody ever fuckin' talks to me again."

She briefly flashed back to the seventh grade when she started to sit with Lilly and Katie in the lunchroom. Katie and Lilly used to sit across from Sadie at the table and giggle about things and refuse to tell Sadie what it was they were giggling about. Sadie used to come home some evenings crying her poor little eyes out because Katie and Lilly were supposed to be her friends, and they were keeping secrets from her. But that was junior high school. Lilly and Katie were just little kids then. Sadie was just a little kid then, too. It wasn't a big deal. But this was. This wasn't twelve-year-old Katie and Lilly. This was her twin brother and her best friend. She couldn't get their names out of her head. _Soda. Lucy. Twin. Best friend. Brother … sister_. They weren't supposed to sit across from her at the lunch table and giggle with things they knew that she didn't. They were supposed to keep her in the loop. She was supposed to count on them for that.

"Do you know what it's like?" Soda asked.

"Do I know what _what's _like?" Sadie asked.

"Do you know what it's like to have someone who you love so much, who knows you better than you know yourself, who you know if you tell somethin' real sad to, you'll feel it twice as much? Because you're already feelin' like shit, and ya know if ya tell the person ya love must about it, then they're gonna feel like shit, too? And then everybody's hurtin' and nobody knows how to stop it?"

Sadie nodded.

"Of course ya do," Soda said. "You've always had somebody like that in your life. First it was me, but then ya got Lucy. Then ya got Johnny. And once he's old enough to talk and all that, you'll feel the same way about Michael."

"I already do feel that way about Michael," Sadie said. "When he cut his first tooth, he cried so hard, I thought it was gonna rip a hole right through me."

"I know. It killed me, too, even though I wasn't gonna say nothin'. But that ain't the point. You know what it's like to love somebody that much. Ya know what it's like to have 'em love ya back three times as much. Think about when me and you sat here the night before I shipped out. What did we write to each other later about why we were so quiet?"

"Our throats hurt too much," Sadie said, feeling the same pain creep back up.

"Right," Soda said. "Me and you, Sadie Lou, we're kinda blessed and cursed. We feel things different than other folks. And try as she might to be different, Lucy's just like us."

Sadie's lips became very thin. She knew where Soda was going with this, and she didn't want to hear it. She didn't want to hear a damn word about Lucy Bennet unless it was to curse her name. She couldn't hear it. She wouldn't.

So, why wasn't she objecting? Why wasn't she walking away?

"I know that's why Lucy couldn't bring herself to tell ya about the day she's really movin'," Soda said. "I know that's why I couldn't tell ya for a _year _about what happened to me after I got shot. It's why I pulled away from ya, too."

_I just wish I would have known_, Sadie thought. _I just wish I would have known about the secrets that _both _of you were keeping_. But she wouldn't say anything like that out loud. Her pride was too important. She was going to preserve it.

"I ain't sayin' Lucy was right to keep that a secret, 'cause she wasn't," Soda said. "I ain't sayin' I was right for keepin' what happened to me a secret, either. Lucy fucked up. I fucked up. Lucy mighta fucked up a little more …"

"A little?" Sadie asked.

"Alright, maybe she fucked up a lot more. But that ain't what I'm tryin' to get at. Look. I kept a secret from ya. Are you gonna hate me forever? Stop talkin' to me?"

"No."

"I know that. You're gonna gimme a hug before you walk out that door. That's just who you are. So, why act like you're gonna just walk away from Lucy? And don't say it was 'cause she was just gonna walk away from you 'cause you know it ain't that simple. You knew it wasn't that simple before you even walked in this house tonight. You're just hurt, and you're actin' like a baby."

"But …"

"No use in fightin' it. Y'are."

Sadie blinked a few times, hoping to erase the past few hours from her memory. She was starting to think she liked it better with Soda and Lucy were keeping secrets from her.

"This is different," Sadie said. "It's different with you."

"How's it different with me?" Soda asked. "I lied, too. I kept somethin' from you, too. From where I'm standin', it looks exactly the same."

"Maybe it looks that way, but it ain't. I'm gonna forgive you – I already forgive you – 'cause you're my brother. And you ain't just my brother. You're my twin. I've seen you at your worst 'cause I'm your twin. No matter what ya do, I can't just throw ya to the dogs. You're my twin, and I love you too damn much. There ain't no limit."

"And there's a limit to how much you're gonna love Lucy?"

"It's different."

"_How _is it different?"

"'Cause I didn't choose you. You're in my life 'cause Mom won the fallopian tube lottery. It don't matter what you do 'cause I can't shake somebody I've been with since before I was born. I chose Lucy. It's different."

"You think ya chose Lucy?"

"Well, yeah."

"Bullshit. No, ya didn't."

Sadie furrowed her brow. That actually caught her off guard.

"What do you mean?" she asked. "She wasn't born into this family. I met her at school. I chose to be her friend even after she proved herself to be an annoying know-it-all."

"Ya still didn't choose her," Soda said. "Think about how ya met her. You got moved up in English and got to go to high school for one hour a day. Ya lucked out and got placed in Lucy's class. That's not somethin' that happens everyday. That's somethin' that happens when a couple-a people are supposed to meet."

"I thought I said a Monday night was the wrong time for heavy shit like this."

"Fine. Then I won't get heavier. But ya gotta admit. I got a point. Ya didn't just choose Lucy. She was kinda dropped into your lap, and you were just real happy about it."

Sadie thought about it. She thought about how she couldn't wipe the smile off her face when she got home from school that day. Vividly, she recalled the way she talked about the new girl, Lucy Bennet, to her parents. Mom and Dad had been so excited to meet Sadie's perfect friend. They'd loved Lucy so dearly. It would surely piss them off, wherever they were, if Sadie let go of Lucy now.

But how was she supposed to let Lucy get away with something like this?

"I don't know what to do," Sadie said.

"Sure ya do," Soda said. It seemed so simple for him. "All ya gotta do is talk to Lucy again. This time, keep your head on straight and listen to her. She fucked up, but she's got stuff to say, too."

Sadie took a deep breath. She knew Soda was right. When it came to matters of the heart and matters of the fight, Soda was always right. That didn't mean she wanted to give Lucy the satisfaction of an immediate resolution. Lucy had left Sadie to twist in the wind for a month and a half, and Sadie hadn't even known there was anything to twist in the wind about. The least Sadie could do was let Lucy twist for a few days. Besides, she was quite sure that if she saw Lucy again too soon, she might vomit.

She looked at Soda. She looked right into his eyes, and she gasped just a little.

It was one of those rare moments when she saw just how much they really looked alike.

"So," she said, "ya really think ya saw Mom?"

Soda nodded.

"Yeah," he said. "I really think I did."

"Did she look good?"

Soda smiled sadly and pulled Sadie closer to his side.

"Yeah," he said. "I really think she did."

* * *

"How long do ya think it's gonna be till Sadie forgives Lucy?" Jane asked as she and Soda were getting ready for bed that night.

Soda shrugged.

"I dunno," he said. "I think it's kinda strange Sadie's keepin' a grudge like this. That ain't like her."

"Yeah, well, her friendship with Lucy ain't like her friendships with anybody else. Believe me, I know. I got a friendship with her, too. If ya get in between Sadie and Lucy, things get bad fast."

"When's the last time they fought, anyway?"

Jane looked in the mirror as she wiped off her lipstick. Once it was off her face and on the tissue in front of her, she shrugged, more at her reflection than at her husband's question.

"Oh, I dunno," she said. "It's been a long time. I remember them makin' up after a fight when I locked myself in a closet at school after you broke up with me."

"I broke up with you?" Soda asked.

"Oh, yeah. Dally told Steve that me and you were goin' out in secret, and you broke it off 'cause you didn't want nothin' to get in the way of your friendship with my brother. It was a whole thing."

"Damn."

"Damn, what?"

"Well, either 'Nam blew my memory to pieces, too, or there are too many secrets in this fuckin' gang to keep track of."

Jane laughed. It was a little hollow, but it was a laugh nevertheless.

"I'm gonna guess it's a little bit of both," she said.

"Yeah, me too."

Jane thought for a moment before she spoke next. She knew how vulnerable and sensitive Soda was, even before the war and before he came back home. She didn't want to push. Then again, she didn't want to lose her husband to coldness and callousness, like she'd read in too many magazines before Soda's return. She took a beat and a breath before she decided it was worth it to ask. He was still Soda, after all.

"How do you feel about the whole thing?" she asked.

Soda looked at her quizzically.

"How do I feel about what whole thing?" he asked. "Sadie bein' pissed at Lucy? I feel like she's got a reason, but she's gonna get over it. It's Sadie and Lucy. They love each other."

"No, not that," Jane said. "How do you feel about Lucy and Dally movin'?"

Soda sighed. The past few days had been so busy and maudlin that he hadn't had much time to think about it. He paused and rocked back and forth in his shoes a little, thinking about how to put it all into words.

"I think they need to get out," Soda said. "I mean, think about 'em. Lucy's too smart for a place like this, and Dally … well, he ain't much without Lucy, so there's really no place else for him to go. I'm happy for 'em, really."

But Jane was frowning.

"I didn't ask if you thought it was a good idea for them to move out there," Jane said. "We all know that it is. I asked how ya felt."

"Jane …"

"I'm serious. I know how much they mean to you. They mean a lot to me, too, but you and them … it's somethin' different. I ain't gonna pretend like I don't know that just 'cause I'm a little jealous of it."

Soda looked at Jane's pale blue eyes and wondered if she knew just how special she was – to him and to the rest of the world. She was right that he loved Lucy and Dally something awful and something fierce, but none of it compared to her. None of it would ever compare to her.

"I'm gonna miss 'em," Soda said. "I'm probably gonna cry about it for a long time 'cause I ain't nothin' if I ain't a bawl baby. I don't know what I'm gonna do without Elenore. I was thinkin' a little while ago. I missed that kid's first birthday. I missed her second birthday, too. And I got back home just in time for Lucy and Dally to take her all the way to New York. I'm tellin' ya, Janie. That ain't fair. A godfather has rights!"

Jane chuckled a little and kissed Soda's cheek.

"You're right," she said. "A godfather does have rights."

"Well, he's got rights where it counts," Soda said, a little embarrassed. "In the heart."

"Soda, I can promise you this: You're gonna be in Elenore's life for a long, long time."

Jane was frowning again, and Soda stepped closer to her to see if he could figure out what was the matter. Of course, he already knew. He'd known for a year. He grabbed her hand, and though she grabbed his hand back, her grip was weak. He understood.

"Hey," he said. "Look at me, would ya?"

Slowly, Jane lifted her gaze from the rug beneath her feet and made eye contact with Soda. The look in his eyes was soft, and it almost made Jane forget about the past few years – the roughness they'd had on her heart. She gripped his hand harder. She recognized him.

"I don't get it," she said. "I wanna get it. Really, I do. But I don't. Out of everybody we know, we're the sweetest. We're the ones who are most built to … and we … we ain't got 'em, Soda. Why ain't we got 'em?"

Soda blinked a few times, not sure of what to say. He knew that nothing he said to Jane, who was in this much pain, would help. He just held onto her hand, hoping that might ease her mind for a moment or two.

"It ain't our time to have 'em," he said.

"But even _Dally _…"

"I know. I'm surprised, too. We all are. But we ain't Lucy and Dally. We ain't even Sadie and Johnny. We're Jane and Soda, and Jane and Soda are gonna do things different."

"But _why_? Why do we have to do things different?"

Soda let go of Jane's hand and tucked her long blonde hair behind her ear. He kissed her softly, quickly, and then cupped her chin with his hand. She looked so much like herself, and without warning, he realized just how much he'd hated being apart from her.

"Sometimes, things don't go the way ya thought ya wanted 'em to," he said. "I didn't want to go to war, Janie, but I did. I didn't wanna come back all fucked up in the head, but I did. We can't change that now, 's much 's I'd like to."

Jane nodded. She loved Soda, but she hated that he was right.

"It's just that I'm so worried I'm losing whatever it is that would make me good at bein' a mother," she said. "I'm turnin' twenty-one on the Fourth of July. I feel like I'm ancient."

"I'm twenty-one already," Soda laughed. "You think I'm an old coot?"

Jane laughed, too.

_And thank God_, Soda thought.

"No, of course you ain't," she said. "But you gotta at least pretend to understand. I got two best friends, and in the past three years, I've watched 'em both become mothers. I feel like … well, I feel like if I don't join 'em, then I'm missin' out."

Soda didn't know what to say (if he had anything to say at all). He stroked Jane's cheek with his thumb and figured it was best to let her do the talking.

"I used to have these kinda dreams, ya know?" she asked. "Me and Sadie raisin' kids at the same time. Then Lucy, once she moved into the picture. I guess I always thought it was gonna be me havin' a kid first, though. I mean, I never thought it was gonna be Lucy."

"But you ain't Lucy," Soda said again. "You're Jane. Ain't you OK with bein' Jane?"

"Of course I am. I'm beautiful."

They both laughed (even though it was true). Then, Jane's smile turned sad again.

"Nothin' worked out the way I thought," she said. "And it's been a whole year, and I still can't wrap my head around it. I ain't mad at you, Soda. Really, I ain't. I just don't know where to go from here. I don't know how to be somebody's wife without bein' somebody's mom. And it ain't like my mom's a good example. She knew how to be somebody's mom, but she didn't know how to be somebody's wife. Hell, she still don't know. But I thought I'd figure it out. I thought I'd figure it out with you."

"You will," Soda said. "I will. We'll both figure it out. I know how hard it is, Janie. I know how much you want to be a mom. I wanna be a dad. You know that, don't ya?"

Jane nodded.

"I guess," she said.

"Well, I do," Soda said. "I want it a lot. But I'm tryin' to think of the kid we don't got yet. 'Cause even though we ain't got him, I'm already lookin' out for him. I don't want him to have a dad who's brain's all foggy and wrong. I don't want him to have a dad who ain't done figurin' himself out yet. Maybe if I hadn't shipped out, things would be different. I know they would be. I knew who I was before Vietnam. I don't think I do anymore."

"You don't?" Jane's voice was a little fearful.

Soda shook his head.

"Not really, no," he said. "I'm tryin'. I told Sadie about when I got shot, and I started to feel more like … more like I can accept it as part-a myself and move on, ya know? But I don't wanna be a dad till I got it almost all figured out. I don't want my kid to have a dad who's too much in his own head to pay attention. When me and you have a kid, I wanna be able to pay attention."

Jane grabbed Soda's face like he had hers, and she kissed him again.

"Ya know, there's just one thing I can't figure out about you," she said.

"What's that?" Soda asked.

"There ain't no real reason you should call yourself dumb."

Soda tried to smile. Jane was always saying stuff like that to him, but no matter how often she said it, he wouldn't believe it. He _was _dumb. He grew up with Darry, who was Boy of the Year because of how well he played football and the grades he made on top of it; Sadie, who spoke and wrote so well she was double promoted in English class, and Ponyboy, who was so smart he was double promoted a whole grade in every class. Then, there he was. He was dumb. He couldn't talk to them the same way they could talk to each other, but he could hang back and listen. He could notice things about his siblings that they didn't notice about themselves. He was dumb, but that was the one thing he had.

Jane had it, too. She had it and more.

"I love you, Janie," Soda said. It was about all he could think to say.

"I love you, too."

He wrapped his arms around her, kissed her more deeply than he had before, and within seconds; Jane was lying flat on her back, looking up at Soda and the ceiling.

* * *

Violet lay flat on her back, looking up at Steve and the ceiling. She tried to look more at the light fixture above Steve's head. Whenever she looked into his eyes, she felt something that, until their relationship began, she'd never really felt before.

It wasn't love. Violet knew that. She wasn't sure she'd ever felt love – not even for her brother or her niece. This was something more raw and something that hurt far less, she assumed. It still hurt. It hurt the most when she saw that Steve was sympathetic toward her. She didn't want him to get the wrong idea, but that look in his eye was filled with wrong ideas.

"What'cha lookin' at?" Steve asked.

Violet rolled her eyes.

"Is this how ya talk to your real girlfriend when you're fuckin' her?" she asked.

"Naw, but I ain't gonna be fuckin' you much longer."

Violet felt her heart jump into her throat.

"What?" she asked.

She figured out what he meant a few seconds later. After he rolled over onto the other side of the bed, he kissed her shoulder, which she wished he wouldn't do. It made them seem familiar. She didn't want to be familiar with Steve Randle. She wanted to fuck him. That was all she was good for. Surely, he knew that. Didn't he know that?

"Don't," she said.

"Don't what?" Steve asked.

"Don't kiss me unless you're tryin' to bed me again."

"Who said I ain't?"

"You did. We been doin' this long enough. I know when you run outta breath."

"Do I know when you run outta breath?"

"No."

"Well, why not?"

"'Cause I ain't run out yet. And if I don't know, how the fuck are you supposed to?"

Steve laughed a little, and Violet wished he wouldn't. Sex was one thing. Familiarity and affection were another. One was a basic human need, she figured. The other was superfluous. Violet Winston didn't do superfluous. She didn't have time. She rolled over on her side so she didn't have to look at Steve. He rolled over with her and tried to pull her back into his embrace. Violet was surprised that she let herself fall back into him so easily.

"You mad at me or somethin'?" Steve asked.

"You care or somethin'?"

"Dammit, Violet. I'm tryin' to talk to ya."

"Since when does that fuckin' matter? I ain't your girlfriend."

"Well, do ya wanna be?"

Violet jolted upright. Her heart was in her throat again. This was a question she'd been over more times than she'd like to admit. It was always in the dark of her dingy bedroom when she was done reciting her nightly resentments. She wasn't sure whether she resented Steve. There was a part of her that he knew he was only doing the best he could. Then, of course, she had to think: Was cheating on your best girl, whoever she was, really the best someone could do? Even Dally never cheated on the girls he screwed around with before Lucy. If Dally wouldn't be caught dead fucking a poor little bitch when he had a prettier, nicer girl at home, what did that say about Steve? What did it say about her?

The nerve of him. Asking if she wanted to be his girlfriend. What sort of question was that, anyway? Violet Winston had never been anyone's girlfriend. She hadn't even married herself off to a stuffed animal like Jane used to do because she hadn't had a stuffed animal to play with in the first place. No one ever bought her anything. She didn't know how she had clothes before she started making a little cash of her own (and learning how to steal things, a trick she'd picked up from Jane and not the other way around – as though she'd ever admit to that out loud). What was she thinking about? She shook her head, trying to organize her thoughts, as if that were possible for someone like her. She wasn't going to be anyone's girlfriend. A girlfriend would know how to take care of herself. A girlfriend would know how tot think straight. Violet played that part during the day, but when she was in her dingy bedroom, alone at night, she knew who she really was.

"I'll take that as a no," Steve said.

"Of course it's a fuckin' no," Violet snapped. "You're smart. You know that's a bad idea, man. It's so bad, I don't even think I can call it an idea."

"Might be a little much, don't ya think?"

"No, it ain't a little much. 'S a matter-a fact, I don't think it's enough. Do you have any fuckin' clue how fucked up it'd be if you were to go around callin' me your girl?"

"No, I don't. Why don't ya tell me?"

"Well, to start, you already got a girlfriend. You and Evie been together for too many years now for you to just cut her loose."

"People cut each other loose all the time."

"And you're sayin' you'd cut her loose?"

"I'm sayin' people cut each other loose."

"But you ain't sayin' you'd do it to _her_. I know how to listen real close, Steve. I might not have a high school diploma or nothin', but I'm smart."

Steve didn't say anything because there really wasn't anything for him to say. He'd always known that Violet was smart. How could she be anything _but _smart? She'd had to make her way on her own since before she turned ten. No one looked after Violet except for Violet. The only other person he'd ever known like that was Dally, and even he'd had friends to look after him and bail him out. Violet never had anyone. She taught herself everything she knew. Steve knew that people like his sister pitied Violet for how much she had to learn on her own when she was just a kid, but Steve just couldn't find it within himself to pity her. Violet had certainly been through hell, and Steve's heart lurched every time he thought of one of those stories Violet would mention offhand. But he just couldn't pity her. He was too impressed with her to pity her.

"I don't know what I'd do," Steve said.

"I do," Violet said. "And it ain't me. I mean, maybe it's me on the side for a little while longer, but it ain't me instead of her."

"Well, don't go feelin' fuckin' sorry for yourself on me."

"I don't feel fuckin' sorry for myself! You oughta know that, man. Life don't treat me well, but I never expected it to. I ain't like that. I never …"

She never had the chance to be. She wanted to say it, but she realized she didn't need to. Whether she liked it or not, Steve was at the place where he could predict Violet's next move.

_She liked it_.

"I don't wanna be your fuckin' girlfriend," she said. "I don't wanna be nobody's fuckin' girlfriend. That ain't what I want from you."

Steve sat up and kissed Violet's shoulder again. She shrugged him off but not because she didn't like the feeling. She just liked it too much.

"Well, if that ain't what ya want from me," he said, "what _do _ya want?"

"Just two things," Violet said. "Your dick, and for you not to act like one."

Steve smirked.

"What's that for?" Violet asked.

"Nothin'," Steve said. "Just a little surprised."

"About what?"

"You said ya didn't want me to be a dick."

"I did. I just said it. I'm a dropout, Steve, not an idiot."

"Well, I just didn't expect you to care whether or not the guy you were fuckin' was a dick 's long 's he had one."

Violet rolled her eyes. She wondered if that was really what Steve thought of her – someone who was willing to let a man treat her like dog shit as long as she got a good screw out of it. She thought she had to be that way most of the time, which was why she'd often stand in front of the mirror before hooking up with Steve, telling herself she wasn't good enough for more than a two-hour tryst when Evie was busy. She would tell herself she didn't even want to be good enough for more than that. It wasn't what was supposed to happen for Violet Winston. It hadn't happened for the first one, after all. Why should it happen to her damn daughter?

"I'm full-a surprises," Violet said. "I thought you knew that."

"I dunno what I know about you," Steve said. "I feel like ya don't want me to know very much about ya, or somethin'."

Violet shrugged. Maybe that was true. She didn't like people to know very much about her because she knew that the more information they had, the more they could use against her. The more they knew about her, the more they could hurt her, just like Jane had done when they were still teenagers. Jane had known Violet better than Violet knew any part of herself, which killed her to confess, even to herself, but it was true. Jane had known Violet so well that Violet decided she couldn't be her friend anymore. She decided she had to _hate _Jane for that. That was the reason they weren't friends anymore, and as often as Steve asked Violet about it, she knew she could never tell him. She was aware of when she was in the wrong, and when it came to her last fight with Jane (the last fight they shared when they were still friends, of course), she knew she was in the wrong. But after so many years had gone by, what else was she supposed to do? She held onto it like a part of herself, though it wasn't always clear why. Violet just knew that the more she kept to herself, the more she could look tough – the more people, including Steve, would know to fear her.

Would anyone fear Violet Winston if they knew how hard she'd cried for her dead mother? Dally didn't even know how hard she'd cried, and he was there when they put the old lady in the ground. Would anyone fear Violet Winston if they knew how loudly she'd yelled when the old man was beating Dally up on the kitchen floor that night he left for New York? Would anyone fear her if they knew she cried every night for the first year he was gone? Would anyone fear Violet Winston if they knew that Steve Randle was the first man she'd gone to bed with of her own volition and desire? Of course they wouldn't. This Violet Winston wasn't the one anyone expected to exist. Everyone else was looking to an older model to explain the newer one. Somehow, Violet was caught in between it.

"You don't need to know me," Violet said.

"I know ya like to say that," Steve said. "But I don't think ya mean it."

"What is it you think you wanna know about me? Huh?"

Steve smiled at Violet, and she covered her mouth with her hands. She hadn't realized a word of what she'd said. Though she'd tried to keep up her bitter, cynical tone when she asked him that question, it hadn't worked at all. When Violet asked Steve what he wanted to know about her, her voice was the clearest and the kindest it had ever been?

"I didn't …" she said, but it was no use. Steve knew exactly where he wanted to go from there.

"I wanna know whatever you wanna tell me," he said. "I got time."

Violet snorted.

"That's a fuckin' first," she said. "You got time for me?"

Steve nodded.

"Well," he said, "I got time today. Evie's pullin' a double, and I don't gotta be back home to her for a long, long time."

And even though she didn't care for it, Violet felt her heart sink into her knees. That was what it was going to be like with Steve, and she knew it. He'd squeeze her in when Evie was pulling a double. He'd squeeze her in whenever Evie was going to be out of the picture for a few hours or a few days. She wasn't sure she wanted to live like that. She was, however, sure she deserved it. Maybe Steve loved her. Somewhere inside of herself, Violet knew he did. But it wasn't the kind of love that would last until they both died. If it were, he would have cut Evie loose by now. He would have followed his own damn advice.

Violet could have followed her own advice, too, but she couldn't. When it came to Steve Randle, she felt like she needed to freeze in place. She felt like staying frozen might change things. It was counterintuitive, but she wished for it. Sometimes, she thought, a wish could be enough to keep you going for a while.

"My birthday's in September," Violet said. It was the first thing that had popped into her mind.

Steve smiled. It was so earnest that Violet almost forgot to hate it.

"Go on," he said.

And so, with trepidation, Violet did.

* * *

Once Elenore had gone to bed (and asked too many pressing questions about Sadie and when she'd be back to play with her), Lucy and Dally found themselves once again on the couch in the living room. Lucy lay on her stomach, sprawled out across her husband's legs, and though he tried to comfort her, he was still Dallas Winston. He still didn't know what to do other than snap at her to snap out of it – whatever _it _was.

"You gotta calm down, man," Dally said. "You're startin' to stress me out."

"Since when do you care about being stressed or not being stressed?" Lucy asked.

"Since you started talkin' about stress all the fuckin' time. Jeez."

Lucy sighed heavily, and Dally felt it against his knees. It was surreal – being there with her, not wanting to run even though she was under duress. He couldn't believe it, but he liked it. Not that Lucy was so upset. He hated that part. But being there to take care of her – that was the best.

"I fucked up," Lucy said.

Dally snorted, amused.

"Yeah," he said. "You damn well fuckin' did."

Lucy looked up at him and stared daggers.

"Don't gimme that look, Bennet," he said. "You know I ain't gonna tell you what you wanna hear just 'cause ya wanna hear it. I thought you liked that about me."

"A person would be a fool to like anything about you," Lucy said.

"So, I can start callin' you a fool, then?"

"Oh, most definitely."

They both almost laughed, but it hurt too much, especially for Lucy – both because her ribs were strained against her husband's legs and because it was the end of the day on May 11, five days before they were all set to move.

"I fucked up," Lucy said again. "You don't need to agree. I already know you do. Why did I do that?"

"You were afraid of tellin' Sadie the truth," Dally said. "It was a dumbass reason. I told you as much. V told you as much when we told her. But you held onto it so fuckin' tight, I thought you were gonna strangle it to death."

"I just didn't want to admit it was going to be over between Sadie and me. Except for you and Elenore, she's my … well, she was supposed to be …"

Lucy wanted to say, "She was supposed to be _my forever_," but she didn't. It felt like too much. Besides, Dally already knew what she wanted to say. He had a particular gift for that.

"It was too much," Lucy said. "It's still too much. And now she knows, and I don't know if she's coming back."

"She'll come back," Dally said, and Lucy was both impressed and confused with the confident optimism in her husband's voice.

"What?" Lucy asked.

"She'll come back. She's your best fuckin' friend. She ain't gonna give that up just 'cause you made one fuckin' bad choice."

"I don't know. She seemed really upset and serious when she left."

"That's 'cause she's a Curtis, man. They love fuckin' drama."

Lucy almost laughed at that, too.

"You might be right about that," Lucy said. "But I wouldn't blame Sadie if she never wanted to speak to me again. I kept her out of one of the biggest decisions of my life, and she's my best friend. She should have been part of that. I kept her out of it. What kind of best friend keeps her best friend out of a decision as big as this one?"

"One who ain't so … attached … to the other one's feelings," Dally said. "I thought you would know that."

"But isn't that what we're supposed to be? Aren't we supposed to be attached to each other's feelings?"

Dally snorted again. He sounded less amused this time.

"Naw, man," he said. "You and Sadie … you gotta be people, man. You gotta be your own people. 'F that means one of you stays here, and the other one moves to New York … that should be OK."

"Is it not OK?"

"I dunno. I ain't the person you need to be fuckin' askin'."

Lucy then sat up and curled up beside Dally on the couch. He almost shrugged her off, but he didn't. He liked being close to her.

"You know, I used to think that without Sadie, I had nothing," Lucy said. "Even until really recently, that was what I believed. I thought I wouldn't have any friends. I thought I wouldn't have you or Elenore."

Dally nodded. He wouldn't say a word to Lucy, but that was exactly what he'd always felt about Sodapop.

"Yeah," he said. "I know."

"And maybe that's a little bit true, you know?" Lucy asked. "I don't want to lose her. I can't imagine my life without her."

Dally thought about Soda again. He thought about how he'd hugged him and how he still didn't regret it. All he did was nod.

"Yeah," he said.

"But I have to stop thinking so much about the past eight years," Lucy said. "I have to start moving. I don't have to leave everything – _Sadie _– behind. I just have to move forward. I guess … I guess I just didn't realize there was a difference until right now."

Dally felt himself start to smile. His wife was so fucking smart. He wanted to kiss her, but he still wasn't that kind of guy. In a few hours, when Lucy was taking off her clothes for the night, he'd make it all up to her. After almost five years of being married, Lucy understood.

"So, what are you gonna do?" he asked. "You gonna say you're sorry to Sadie?"

"Maybe," Lucy said. "I just think there's more to it than that."

"Like what, man?"

Lucy looked out the window, hoping something might come to her. It didn't, but she wouldn't lose hope. She had five more days before she was gone. She'd figure it out by then.

"I don't know," she said. "But it's Sadie."

"What's that mean?"

"It means that whatever it is, it has to be good."

Dally nodded. If anyone understood what Lucy was trying to say, he was the one. The whole time she talked about Sadie, he just knew.

That was exactly how he felt about Soda.

* * *

**Nothing to see here! Just another overly long chapter because I'm really leaning into the whole Victorian novel aesthetic. Hey, Lucy's going to New York to study Victorian novels … if anything, I'm just staying true to the character.**

**Maybe nothing much happens in this chapter except for a lot of conversation, but at least I finally got to tell Sadie the truth. It's been **_**eight months **_**of my time but only a few **_**days **_**of theirs! That's stressful!**

**Hinton owns **_**The Outsiders**_**. I own a lot of ponytail holders, and I'm sure to lose the one on my wrist in the next twenty-four hours.**


	12. Chapter 12

On May 12, 1970, Elenore Winston couldn't stop crying.

"I don't know what to fuckin' _do_," Dally said. "I read her the first thing I could get my hands on."

"What was the first thing you could get your hands on?" Lucy asked.

"The back of the fuckin' Turtles record Darry got her the Christmas before last."

"Are you _stupid_? That's just a few songs!"

"But I read 'em over and over again."

"Such content is _way _too superficial for my baby!"

"_Your _baby?"

Lucy rolled her eyes and scooped Elenore up off the ground. Even in her mother's arms, poor Elenore was still screaming and bawling.

"You poor little baby," Lucy said. "Did your father underestimate your intelligence?"

"She's _three_," Dally said.

"And just yesterday, you were saying that she's too old and too smart now," Lucy said. "Make up your mind, man. Make up your mind."

It was Dally's turn to roll _his_ eyes.

"That wasn't yesterday, by the way," Dally said. "It was Sunday. That was two days ago. Get your fuckin' schedule straight, Bennet."

Lucy snorted.

"Oh, please," she said. "If that was Sunday, then what was yesterday, and why don't I…?"

Her voice trailed off, and Dally broke eye contact with her. It was too strange. Of course Lucy had pretended to forget about what had happened the day before. After the events of the day before, she and Sadie might not be friends. That cut Lucy too deeply to think about very much, and for the time, it was much easier to pretend like nothing had ever happened. It didn't hurt every time she breathed if nothing ever happened.

"Well, that's not the point," Lucy said. "The point is that you need to find richer things to read to our daughter when she's crying like this."

Lucy turned Elenore and gently bounced her up and down.

"You _are _getting awfully tall, baby," Lucy said. "I feel like the top of your head is going to smack me in the chin if I'm not careful."

"Better give her to me, then," Dally said.

"Why would I do that?"

"Because you've got it in your head that you're going to smack yourself in the chin with the top of the kid's head, and once you've got somethin' in your head, it don't leave until …"

Elenore threw herself upward a little higher than usually, smacking her mother in the chin with the top of her head.

" … it happens."

Lucy sighed and handed Elenore over to Dally.

"Fine," she said. "But I'm still going to talk to her about what she wants to read."

And as Lucy scanned the living room for a book, she realized they had none.

"Oh," she said. "We don't have any books at the ready, do we?"

"Naw, man," Dally said. "All we got is that record we play for the kid when she can't stop cryin'."

"_And you didn't think to put the record on_?"

"Well, there ain't nothin' she likes better than bein' read to. Figured it was a good place to meet in the middle, ya know?"

Lucy mumbled some exasperated noises, went into Elenore's bedroom, and started to play her favorite record.

"_Two bucks a ticket / got to get with it / on the night they have the battle of the bands_ …"

"Damn," Lucy said. "Leave it to our baby to like a whole concept album, right?"

"Sure," Dally said, not entirely certain what a concept album was.

Elenore had stopped crying a little. The music proved an effective distraction. But Lucy, ever the problem solver and never the emotional dweller, decided that would be a great time to ask Elenore why she'd been crying so hard before. She stepped closer to her daughter in her husband's arms and looked her in the eye. Those eyes. Lucy had almost forgotten just how much Elenore looked like her. She wasn't sure why that felt so significant, but it did.

"Elenore," she said. "Why're you crying, baby?"

Poor Elenore's eyes began to well up again.

"I …" she said. "I …"

Her tears began to flow more freely, and her breath began to hitch.

"Aww, c'mon, Bennet," Dally said. "Now look what'cha did."

"You hush," Lucy said.

She rushed into Elenore's room one more time and turned up the volume on the turntable.

"_Jump up and down / Jump up on the stage / People will be dancin' regardless of their age …_"

She came back around, and Elenore wasn't crying anymore. But, of course, Lucy didn't know how to leave well enough alone, so she kept asking. She wouldn't realize how strange this was for another week.

"Elenore," Lucy said. "Why're you so sad, honey?"

"Because," Elenore said, sniffing a little. "I want to play with Sadie. She go."

Lucy took a breath, and it hurt like hell.

"Ah, no," Dally said. "Now I'm gonna have two cryin' girls on my hands."

"You should be so lucky," Lucy said.

Dally didn't say anything back. He knew Lucy was right. In the meantime, Lucy wandered over to the couch and sat down. She looked out the window and down at the street, hoping that somehow, Sadie would be back for her. Sadie would come to the door, ready to forgive Lucy for the nonsensical lies she'd been telling her (and everyone else) since the end of March. There was a tiny part of Lucy's brain that actually believed it might happen. After all, the past few years of Lucy's life were comprised of things that once seemed farfetched or even impossible. She was married to Dallas Winston. She'd become a mother before her twentieth birthday, and Dallas Winston had stuck around to be the kid's father. She'd been accepted into an elite graduate program _as a woman_. When Lucy was seventeen years old, all of that had seemed impossible, and almost none of it had seemed like what she wanted. But if all those things had happened, was it so wild to wonder if Sadie would knock on the door, ready to forgive Lucy for everything she'd done and everything she'd kept from her?

Of course it was. Sadie had put her mind to this one, and once Sadie put her mind to something, she got it done. It was one of the things Lucy liked best about her. She even liked it now that it was backfiring.

"Mommy?"

Lucy tore her eyes away from the window and looked at Elenore, who was now standing before her, right in front of the couch. She smiled, bent forward and a little, and scooped Elenore up to put her in her lap.

"Here I am," Lucy said. "I didn't go far."

"No," Elenore said. "But we're gonna."

Lucy tried to ignore her chest pains by kissing the top of Elenore's head. It worked for a second or two, but before long, they were back. She looked past Elenore and toward Dally on the other side of the room. His hands were in his pockets, and though he locked eyes with his wife, it was clear from his expression that he no longer knew what to do. Then again, maybe neither of them had ever known what to do. Sadie and Johnny liked to say that they were no longer children because they had children. Maybe that was true. Lucy knew it was. But that didn't mean they suddenly knew how to do everything – that Lucy could approach motherhood with the same overbearing ease that her own mother had mastered. As she held Elenore in her lap that day, she realized that she had nothing to say.

There was nothing that scared Lucy Bennet more than speechlessness.

"Mommy?" Elenore asked again.

"Yes?"

"Why did Sadie _go_?"

Lucy sighed and held Elenore closer.

"She wasn't really happy with me," she said.

"Why?"

"Because there was something I really should have told her that I didn't."

"Why did you not _tell her_?"

Lucy bit her lip. These were the times she almost wished she had a less articulate three-year-old.

"Because I was scared," Lucy said. "I was scared of what it was going to mean if I moved away from Sadie. I've loved her longer than almost anyone in the world."

"Longer than _me_?"

That made Lucy laugh a little. She pulled Elenore closer again and kissed her.

"Well, that's because I've known Sadie for longer than you," Lucy said. "But don't worry, kid. You're my number one."

"See I've been knocked down a peg," Dally said as he walked over to the couch and sat down next to Lucy.

"Oh, please," Lucy said. "You've always been in second place. Except after Elenore was born. Then you were knocked down to third."

Dally rolled his eyes and realized he knew it wasn't true. It was an odd feeling – to be secure in someone's love. He sat in it for awhile, trying to put words to it, and then he realized there were none. Maybe that was OK. He didn't feel like dying, and maybe that was enough.

"Mommy?"

"Yes, Elenore?"

"Will Sadie be back?"

Lucy opened her mouth to answer; thankfully, Dally cut her off. Both of them knew that whatever came out of Lucy's mouth was going to be hyperbolic and pessimistic. Briefly, they acknowledged the irony that they lived in a world where Dallas Winston could say something truer and more comforting to a three-year-old child, but that was where they were. They wouldn't have traded anything to be anywhere else.

"Ain't no way she's leavin' for good, kid," Dally said. "She and your mom … they got somethin' I ain't never seen two people have before."

Elenore nodded as though she understood exactly what her father meant. Maybe she did. She was, after all, a smart girl.

Lucy turned to Dally with a strange gleam in her eye.

"What do we have?" she asked. "Sadie and me. What do we have?"

"I dunno," Dally said. "I ain't gonna put it pretty Pony words, if that's what you want."

"Well, then, it's a good thing I want ugly Dally words."

Dally had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing at that one. Fucking Bennet. She could do that to him too often.

"You and Sadie got this thing where ya can't be far away from each other," he said. "It's like … I dunno, man, it's like everything's better when you're together. Not just you and not just her. 'S better for everyone."

Lucy concealed a small smile. Those weren't ugly Dally words at all.

"I've always thought so," Lucy said. "There's a reason I picked Sadie to be Elenore's godmother."

"Yeah."

In a split second, Lucy decided she might as well say what had popped into her head about a minute earlier when Dally was talking to Elenore about something she and Sadie had that no two people had shared before. He might get pissed at her for it, but she figured it was worth it to try. In four days, they'd be gone, and there was no time like an ending.

"I don't think Sadie and I are the only ones who have that," she said. It came out all in one rush. "We're definitely not the only ones who have that around here."

"'F you're talkin' about you and me, Bennet …"

"I'm not."

Dally curled his lips inward, and Lucy couldn't tell if he was angry or embarrassed. Maybe both, but he'd be more willing to admit to the former. They sat there in an awkward silence for awhile, both aware of what the other was thinking, both certain they couldn't say it out loud.

"Yeah," Dally finally said. "Guess you're right."

_Fuckin' twins_, he thought (and knew Lucy could hear him think it).

"Mommy?" Elenore asked again.

"Yes, Elenore?"

"We gonna see Sadie again?"

Lucy picked Elenore up, spun her around so that they were directly facing one another, and kissed her cheek. Elenore giggled. She loved this kind of attention from her mother – even more than she loved it when her mother read to her.

"Yeah," Lucy said. "We are."

* * *

Though she'd come home the night before, Sadie hadn't talked to Johnny about what she knew. When she walked through the door that evening, she looked at him and said, "_You knew_?" without giving him a chance to explain. When he picked her up from work that day, she told him to take her directly to her brothers' house. Johnny tried to get her to talk, but she wouldn't let him. As he pulled up in front of the house, and Sadie moved to get out of the car, Johnny asked her to wait just a minute.

"What?" she asked.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I just wanted you to know that."

"You told me that yesterday."

"I know, but that don't make it any less true."

"I understand that."

Johnny felt Sadie's words like sharp points. Whenever she pronounced her words harshly like that, he knew she was trying to prove something. He just wished she knew that she didn't have to prove anything to him.

"Can we talk about it when ya get home?" Johnny asked.

"Maybe," Sadie said.

"Well, can I count on you to fight about it?"

A small smile curled up in the corner of Sadie's mouth. She looked adorable, even if she was angry. Then again, maybe she wasn't quite so angry anymore.

"Yeah," Sadie said. "You can count on me to fight about it."

She leaned over and quickly kissed him before getting out of the car. She was still angry (seething, really), but that didn't change the fact that she loved her husband and that he was cute. She'd fight with him later. She'd do _plenty _with him later. When she walked up the porch steps to see her brothers, she could almost feel her husband shyly grinning at her before he drove away.

After Sadie knocked on the door, she beamed when she saw that it was Sodapop who came to answer it. He'd been right the day before. In the moments before she left, she swept him up into a hug, forgiving him for keeping his secret. He was her brother – her _twin _brother. He had his reasons, but that didn't mean she could just give him up. She couldn't stay mad at Soda even if she tried, and the day before, she'd wanted to try. But you didn't just give up hope on your twin brother. You didn't just give up hope on the person you'd always been closest to.

Sadie still wasn't sure whether that applied to Lucy, but she was visiting her brothers in the hopes that she would find out.

"Back so soon?" Soda asked.

"You know me," Sadie said. "I can't get enough."

"You're addicted to attention."

"To _adoration_. You gotta gimme that."

"_Adoration_, Sadie Lou?"

"Well, yeah."

"Look, I may be a high-school dropout, but I know enough to know that ain't better. It might even be worse."

Sadie's grin became wider, and she swept Soda into another hug. As he rested his chin on his twin's shoulder, he couldn't help but grin in a way that matched hers. He'd missed this. In the year since he'd been back, he'd hugged Sadie a number of times, but none of them felt like the hugs from the last few days. Their dance on the ninth had been their real reunion.

"Why don't ya come in?" Soda asked, stepping aside to let Sadie in the house.

When she walked in, she saw that Darry was sitting on the couch, reading from one of Lynnie's magazines, and Ponyboy was sprawled out on the floor, absentmindedly watching whatever was on the television.

"Hey," Sadie said.

Darry put the magazine down on its face, and Ponyboy sat up.

"Sadie!" Darry said. "Soda said ya dropped by yesterday, but me and Pony missed ya."

"I was with Carrie," Ponyboy said, and Sadie thought it was sweet he felt the need to boast about it. If only Carrie were there to see it. But then, she had a thought.

"Where's everybody else?" she asked.

"Lynnie and Jimmy are in the park," Darry said. "She decided it was a good idea to take him on some mother-and-son bonding time before the wedding."

"Ain't that kinda silly?" Sadie asked. "I mean, they've lived in this house for a long time. I think Jimmy's real used to havin' a dad around. Plus aunts and uncles."

"Somebody should make a television show about that," Ponyboy mused.

"Naw, man," Soda said. "Nobody would ever watch it, 'specially if it was about us. You'd gotta get some rich folks in there."

Ponyboy shrugged as though Soda's words were somehow sage or prophetic.

"Soda?" Sadie asked. "Where's Jane?"

"Jane is out shoppin' for groceries," Soda said. "It was her turn. I told her to wait for me so I could go with her, but you know Jane. Impatient."

Sadie nodded.

"Carrie's gettin' some reading done that she wants to finish before she talks to me about it," Ponyboy said. "She doesn't like to talk about a book till she's read the whole thing."

"That's nice," Sadie said. "But Carrie don't live here."

"She could."

"Would ya want her to?"

Ponyboy sighed, thinking about the number of times he'd nearly stepped on one of Jimmy's loose toy trains in the hallway. He shook his head.

"No."

Sadie tried to suppress a smile.

"I didn't think so," she said.

She looked around the house one more time, almost refusing to believe it.

"So," she said. "Lynnie's gone. Jane's gone. Pony's not with Carrie. Does that mean…?"

"The Curtis house is just the Curtis siblings," Darry said. "I don't remember the last time somethin' like that happened."

"I ain't sure it ever did," Soda said. "I mean, before, we were always here with Mom and Dad. But after the accident, it felt like there was always somebody else in this house. Ya know?"

"That's 'cause there was," Ponyboy said. "Don't you remember? Darry used to leave the door open in case somebody needed to get in and get safe in the middle of the night. It was almost always Tim Shepard."

He raised his shoulders above his ears, trying not to contemplate the oddness and awkwardness of now almost, maybe, one day, becoming a Shepard himself.

"This is so weird," Sadie said. "It's like we're alone, but we're a group of four people."

"That ain't deep," Ponyboy said.

"I wasn't trying to be deep."

"Everybody should always try to be deep."

"I don't think you realize how much you would hate to live in a world where _that's _true."

Darry shook his head and stuck his hands in the middle of his two warring siblings.

"Cut it out," he said. "I thought you got over this a long time ago."

Sadie bit the inside of her cheek. All she could think of was the fact that Pony was going into his third year of college, and she was going into her third year of marriage. If only she could have had both. She made a note not to bring that up in front of Johnny later.

She walked over to her usual place on the couch and sat down. Unsurprisingly, Soda followed suit. Darry, sure of what to bring up but unsure of how to do it, just spoke to his sister.

"So, Sadie," he said. "You gonna talk to Lucy now that you know when she's really leavin'?"

Sadie gazed daggers at her brother, and he – a human brick wall – backed off.

"Sorry," Darry muttered. "I only wanted …"

"Wanted what?" Sadie asked. "To remind me that you knew the truth about this before I did? Seems like a good idea."

"That ain't what I was gonna say."

"Then what _were _you gonna say, Darry?"

Darry sighed. It had been several years since Sadie had lived in their house, and he'd forgotten how exhausting her stubborn streak could be.

"I don't know," he said. "I guess I was gonna say that I hope you make up with her. That's all."

"You hope I make up with her?" Sadie asked.

"Well, yeah."

"That's somethin'. Soda told me just yesterday that you got real pissed at her. Told her you might not let her back in if she didn't shape up and tell me about the move herself."

"I was just tryin' to stand up for ya."

"You should know by now I don't need you to do that."

Darry stuffed his hands in his back pockets. He did know that Sadie didn't need him to fight her battles. He just wondered if she knew that he wanted to join them.

"I didn't come here to talk about Lucy," Sadie said. "I came here to see my brothers. And that we're all alone …"

"Makes it all that more brotherly," Soda said.

"Sisterly, too, in your case."

"Ain't that implied?" Ponyboy asked.

"No," Sadie said. "Ya can't just lump a sister in with a lotta brothers. You gotta acknowledge that I'm a woman, and bein' a woman is different."

"'Cause bein' a woman makes you better?"

"Well, yeah."

"And we can't argue with that," Soda chimed in, wrapping his arm around Sadie's shoulder. Sadie let him. He was the only one of her brothers (and maybe the only man in general) whom she felt understood women. She liked to take a little credit for it, too.

Sadie leaned back and looked up at Darry with a sly gleam in her eye. He noticed and tipped his head down toward her.

"Why're you lookin' at me like that?" he asked.

"Oh, nothin'," Sadie said. "Just that you're gettin' married on Friday."

"And?"

"And if Mom were here, she'd be makin' wedding night jokes."

Darry had to laugh. Their mother had been much more crass and much hipper to the _nefarious _dealings in their neighborhood and in their house than most people (especially Ponyboy) remembered. He could just hear her. She'd be on the porch, putting out her cigarette, turning to him and wheezing something like, "Darry, I'm only gonna say this once. You go in without a condom, you'll come out a busy man." Then Lucy would have said (because in this world, Lucy was unmarried, always at the Curtis house, and not moving to New York in a matter of days), "Hey, Frances, don't you mean come in?" They would have laughed. Oh, how they would have laughed.

He hated that his mother couldn't be at his wedding. He hated even more that now, Lucy might choose not to show up.

"Mom loved to joke about us bein' pure, didn't she?" Darry said.

"She did," Sadie said. "By the time she was gone, she was still half right."

That was when Ponyboy furrowed his brow at the rest of his siblings.

"Wait," he said. "Are you tellin' me by the time Mom and Dad died, only me and Sadie were _virgins_?"

"How do you know it was me?" Sadie asked.

"I think you're forgettin' that I'm your husband's best friend," Ponyboy said.

"Oh, please. My husband is _your _best friend."

Ponyboy shrugged, understanding (but not loving) Sadie's point.

"Ponyboy, I was outta high school by the time Mom and Dad died," Darry said. "And if you think I finished high school without taking a girl or two for a ride, well …"

"_What_?"

"C'mon, Pony, don't be that way," Soda said. "You must've known."

"I didn't," Ponyboy said. "When did you lose your virginity, Darry?"

The other three Curtis siblings erupted in laughter, and poor Ponyboy turned beet red like he was still a kid (and in too many ways, he still was).

"Are you really askin' me this question?" Darry asked, almost laughing.

"Well, yeah," Ponyboy said. "We're all adults, ain't we?"

"You wish, kid," Sadie said, and Ponyboy rolled his eyes.

"Naw, Sadie, he's right," Darry said. "We're all adults. Ya wanna know, Pony?"

"I think so, but I think I'm gonna regret it."

"Well, brace yourself, 'cause I ain't turnin' back now."

Sadie found herself smiling widely without realizing it. She didn't remember the last time she'd talked to her brothers like they were her brothers, not like they were her friends' husbands. She hadn't realized how much she'd missed it. Once Lucy was gone (which her heart lurched at the thought of), she hoped they wouldn't lose whatever this was. It was a good thing to have brothers.

"I just turned sixteen," Darry said. "I was seein' this girl, Linda. Middle class. You remember her at all?"

"Um, yes," Sadie said, "and I have a concern."

"This early in the story?" Soda asked. "They ain't even kissed yet."

"Not _that_. You lost your virginity to a girl named Linda?"

"Yeah," Darry said.

"And you're about to marry a woman named _Lynnie_?"

"Her name's not Linda."

"No, but it's close."

"Close don't count for shit when it's true love, Sadie, and me and Lynnie … well, ya know."

Darry rubbed the back of his neck in some kind of embarrassment, and Sadie smiled at him. She liked him this way. It had been too long since he'd relaxed in front of all three of them like this.

"Well, anyway," Darry said. "It was Valentine's Day, and I took her out parkin'. Dad let me have the keys. I think he knew what I was tryin' to do that night. I don't think he cared."

"He most definitely did not care," Sadie said. "Damn. Were our folks cool?"

"Depends on how ya look it," Soda said.

Sadie shrugged as though that was a sufficient answer.

"So, I got her in the car," Darry said. "And when it got down to it, and she was gettin' my pants off, she said somethin' like, 'You ever done this before?' And after she asked that, it was like I had to write a whole speech in a second. I knew I could tell her the truth, and she might think that was romantic or somethin'. But then she might think I was gonna be no good and leave me high and dry. So I lied and told her I'd done it before, and I don't think she was any the wiser."

The brothers laughed, and Sadie just wrinkled her nose. Darry noticed and pointed at her.

"What're you makin' that face for?" he asked.

"I dunno," Sadie said. "Guess I don't like to think of my big brother that way."

"Oh, c'mon, Sadie," Ponyboy said. "I thought we were all adults."

"_You're _the one who said that. Not me."

Ponyboy folded his arms across his chest like the baby he still was.

"Dammit," he muttered. "And here I thought I could trick ya."

Sadie rolled her eyes. She wanted to remind Ponyboy that she was, in fact, smarter than he was, but it didn't seem like the right time. Perhaps it would never be the right time. She'd just continue to read as much as she could whenever she could … which, in between working all day and taking care of Michael all night, wasn't as often as she wished it was. She made a note to bring that up to Johnny later, when they fought.

"Well, Darry, I woulda done the same thing," Soda said. "I guess it's a good thing my first time was a little more romantic. Makes lyin' a little less of a challenge."

"When did you and Jane first have sex?" Ponyboy asked.

"Hmm," Soda said. "I think our first time was the night of Lucy's eighteenth birthday party. Same night Lucy and Dally hooked up for the first time, actually."

"You _think _that was your first time with Jane?" Sadie asked.

"Yeah, I think so."

"She's gonna kill you if she ever finds out you don't know for sure."

"Well, I dunno if she wants to count the closet and 'Seven Minutes in Heaven.' It ain't like I went _all _the way with her, but …"

Sadie's eyes nearly fell onto the floor.

"When was _that_?" she asked. Her voice practically hit the ceiling.

"A few months before that," Soda said. "Did she really not tell y'all about this?"

"No, she fuckin' well didn't!"

"Well, it ain't like we went all the way, and it ain't like we got close. But I did, 'f ya know what I mean."

"And now I know why Jane didn't tell me about this."

"Makes sense, don't it? Poor Jane. She must've thought I didn't have a clue what I was doin'."

"Naw, I think she knew."

Sadie's eyes flickered back toward Ponyboy, who was furrowing his brow again. This was never a particularly good sign, though a confused Ponyboy usually made for a laugh or two among the older three Curtises.

"Wait," Ponyboy said. "Soda, are you tellin' me Jane ain't the first person you went to bed with?"

And, of course, the older three siblings erupted with laughter.

"Are you kidding me?" Sadie asked.

"No, I ain't," Ponyboy said. His voice was really indignant, which was the worst sound a Pony could make. "You gonna tell me why that question's so funny?"

"'Cause, Ponyboy," Soda said, somehow keeping his kindness and cool, "you know I was with Sandy 'fore I was ever thinkin' about bein' with Jane, don't ya?"

"But when she left, it was 'cause she got pregnant by some other guy," Ponyboy said. "You told us all it wasn't you."

"It _wasn't _me," Soda said. "By that time, she'd been pullin' away for too long. I knew it wasn't me."

"But if it wasn't you …"

Ponyboy let his voice trail off, but the older three siblings kept up their laughing. Poor Soda tried to hide his laughter, but he just couldn't. And to think – they'd thought Mom and Dad taught them all.

"Ponyboy," Soda said. "You know just 'cause I ain't the one who got Sandy pregnant don't mean I never touched her at all, right?"

"Well, of course I know that," Ponyboy said. "Just a couple days ago, Carrie told me she wasn't pregnant, and I've been with her plenty of times."

Darry wrinkled his nose.

"Ugh, you're right," he said. "It ain't cool for all of us to talk about this."

"What?" Ponyboy asked. "You knew I was hookin' up with Carrie. She's my girlfriend."

It was strange, but Sadie felt a little bit proud of Ponyboy when she heard him refer to Carrie as his girlfriend. She remembered how much they both liked each other when they were growing up – how they'd read together and make goo-goo eyes without making a move. She liked it when her little brother acted like an adult. It made her almost less resentful that he was going to be the one with the degree and the experiences outside of Tulsa.

She made another note not to bring that up when she got home and fought with Johnny.

"Maybe I did know it," Darry said. "Don't mean I wanna think about it."

"Well, this makes me wanna tell you the story of my first time with Carrie even more, then," Ponyboy said, and Sadie wanted to fetch a bucket to throw up in. It was one thing to be proud of the fact that her brother had gotten off his ass and committed to the woman who'd loved him since she was a little girl. It was another to picture them together where Sadie, as the older sister, was never ever supposed to be.

"Pony …" Sadie tried to object, but it was no use. Once it was in the kid's mind, he tended not to let it go.

"It was Valentine's Day in '68," he said. "I was over at the Shepards' place, and everybody was out doin' something. Think Tim mighta been in jail."

"He wasn't," Darry said. "That was when he was lookin' for the guy who did Angela dirty. He was gone a long time then."

Ponyboy nodded as though he understand all the gravity behind what Darry had just said. As Carrie's boyfriend, it was possible that he did. When Tim was out looking for the guy who'd hurt Angela, he'd kept Darry in the loop as much as he could. Even if he'd hung around Dally more often when they were all a little younger, and even if the whole world was impressed with the fact that ole Dally had become a dad, it wasn't the same. According to Carrie, Tim knew that no one would understand better than Darry. It made sense to him in the end.

"Anyway," Ponyboy said. "We were alone. Had the whole house to ourselves. This was before we were really datin', so nobody cared if we were stayin' in the house by ourselves. We were talkin' about _She Came to Stay, _the first book Carrie ever gave me to read. We started talkin' about ethics and sex, and before I knew it, we could speak from experience."

Sadie drew in an embarrassed breath, but Soda didn't even try to hide it.

"Dammit, Ponyboy," he said. "That's the most Ponyboy first time story I ever thought I'd hear."

"You mean that to be mean?" Ponyboy asked.

"I mean it to be your big brother."

Ponyboy rolled his eyes, and Sadie and Soda shared one of their secret smiles. It felt good to be able to share secret smiles with Soda again.

"I gotta say, I'm a little disappointed," Sadie said. "I've got three brothers, and two of 'em have lost their virginity on Valentine's Day."

Soda's ears turned redder than they had ever been.

"Oh, Soda," Sadie said, agony stuck in her throat. "You don't mean to say. My own _twin brother_. I expected so much more from you."

"What can I say?" Soda asked and playfully shrugged. "Lotta girls love a tradition."

"Well, _I _didn't!" Sadie said.

"I didn't say _you_ did! Anyway, what about you, Sadie? How'd you lose your virginity?"

Sadie's cheeks turned pink, and Ponyboy put up a fuss.

"No!" he said. "I don't wanna hear it!"

"Why not, Pony?" Soda asked.

"Yeah," Sadie said, putting on the best taunting voice she'd used since she was a young teenager. "I thought you said we were all adults, and we could all talk about this kinda thing. 'M I about to prove ya wrong?"

"Well, I didn't think you'd join in," Ponyboy said.

"Why? 'Cause I'm your _sister_?"

When Ponyboy didn't say anything, Sadie knew she had him. She smirked cleverly and continued the conversation like it had never been interrupted.

"Well, then," she said. "For anybody who actually wants to be fair and listen to me talk, even though I'm the sister here, I'll tell ya that I lost my virginity in November of '66, right after me and Soda turned eighteen."

"Ya could've phrased that different," Soda said. "From the way you're talkin', it almost sounds like this story's gonna have me in it."

"Sorry."

She'd just been too excited to be around her twin again.

"Anyway," she said. "Me and Johnny had been together for about a year at that point. A little more, actually, when ya think about it. But we were out for somethin' to eat, talkin' about …"

Her voice trailed off as she remembered exactly what she and Johnny had been talking about over their dinner that night. Lucy was a few months pregnant at the time, and they'd been talking about how it seemed like the only reason she was pregnant was so that she and Dally could prove to the rest of the world that they were having sex. That hadn't been the real case, of course – Sadie wanted to jump her boyfriend's bones and was really jealous that Lucy was married and able to jump her husband's bones whenever they both wanted – but it was what got them thinking about getting into bed that night. But Sadie didn't want to think about that. It hurt too much to think about Lucy in 1966: in love, pregnant with her sweet, sweet daughter, and not yet thinking about moving out of Tulsa (and away from Sadie). She shook her head a little, wondering if maybe that would shake up the memory.

"Well, I guess it don't matter what we were talkin' about," Sadie said. "I don't really know how it happened, I guess. Just … did. Happened in this house, too – my old room, the one Darry's son sleeps in now."

Darry awkwardly raised his shoulders to his ears, and Sadie couldn't help but laugh. It was always funny to see a big guy like Darry start to feel squeamish.

"I knew it, but I didn't need ya to remind me of it," Darry said. "Just as long as Jimmy don't find out that was where his aunt and uncle first learned how to get busy. I think he'd throw up."

"I think _you're _gonna throw up," Sadie said.

"I'm tryin' my best to hold it in."

"'Cause Lynnie would say you're bein' sexist?"

"'Cause _I know _I'm bein' sexist."

Sadie rolled her eyes in good fun. Her brothers chatted more about losing their virginity and bringing girls home after that. Soda tried to tell his brothers a little bit about what happened between him and Jane in the summer of '65, but Sadie wouldn't hear it. It felt almost natural to hear about her brothers having sex, but to think about her twin having sex with her oldest friend was too much for her to handle, especially in a single day. Some of the stuff they shared was funny, and some of it was a little gross, if only because they were all siblings. But one thing was for sure: The Curtis siblings never stopped laughing, the whole evening through. It wasn't enough to make Sadie forget about how angry she was at Lucy for keeping her secret and how angry she was at Johnny for keeping the same secret while also being her husband. She still kept her anger in the back of her mind. It didn't change the fact that when her brothers were there – when they were really acting like her brothers, the boys she'd always known – she felt like she might come out the other side looking OK. She felt like there was still enough for her at home.

Her first instinct was to call Lucy and tell her all about it.

* * *

Later that night, after walking back to her own home from her brothers' house, Sadie put Michael to bed. She gave him a kiss on top of his head before she walked out of his room.

"Goodnight, Michael," she whispered. "Remember to be a good boy. And remember that bein' a good boy means tellin' the truth and not keepin' secrets from the people who love you. I love you, sweetie!"

She gently closed Michael's bedroom door and quietly made her way out into the living room. On her way there, she found Johnny in the narrow hallway, waiting for her.

"Tellin' the truth," Johnny said. "Not keepin' secrets. Ya know, if ya keep this fight up for too long, Michael's gonna figure out you're talkin' about me."

Sadie rolled her eyes.

"Maybe he should know that," she said.

"Naw," Johnny said. "I don't want him to hate his old man or his old lady. He deserves better than that. Don't ya think?"

Sadie nodded, but all the while, she thought she deserved something better than a husband and a best friend who kept secrets. She tipped her head to the side, looked Johnny in the eye, and sort of smiled at him.

"Well, dammit, Johnny," she said, a hint of amusement imbued in her voice, "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were _prepared _to fight."

"Of course I am," Johnny said. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"I dunno. Guess I'm thinkin' a little bit too much about teenage Johnny."

"I think you're thinkin' a little bit too much about teenage _everybody_."

Sadie's smile got strangely bigger. She dug her shoes into the ground. This was it. It was starting. And there was still a part of her that couldn't believe that Johnny was the one who brought them there.

Then again, he always was. She remembered the night he let that plate fall to the ground to tell her how much he loved her and didn't want her to get sucked up in vacuum after Soda was gone. Johnny didn't go in for the kill very often, but when he did, Sadie was always glad.

"Oh?" she asked. "Tell me about that."

"You're tryin' to keep everybody all in one place, and don't try to tell me you ain't," Johnny said. "Lucy's movin' to New York, and you'd rather she stayed here. Your brother's gettin' married, and you can hardly be bothered to get close to Lynnie."

"That's not …"

"Don't tell me you would've stayed twice as long if she were there in the house."

Sadie stepped back a bit. Johnny wasn't wrong, though he wasn't right, either. It was true that Sadie had been too distant from Lynnie. It wasn't that she didn't like Lynnie. She did. Lynnie was kind, funny, and she was part of the Bennet family. Lynnie also loved Darry like no one else had ever tried. But it was hard. It was hard to watch Lynnie take over her space in the house that she grew up in. More than that, it was hard to know that a member of Lucy's family was living in that house while Lucy would be far away. It wasn't Lynnie who upset Lucy. It was change that did it.

She shuffled in her shoes, realizing that she'd just proven Johnny's point. She wasn't going to say anything. She was far too proud to admit to a man that he'd been right while she'd been wrong, even if he _was _her husband (maybe _because _he was her husband).

"OK, so I don't love change," Sadie said. "I can't even pretend to _like _it. But that ain't the point of this fight. The point of this fight is that you lied to me."

"Naw, that's your point, and I respect that," Johnny said. "My point is that you ain't willin' to pack up and move on about nothin', and I think you gotta be OK with movin'."

"But the last time I pretended to be OK with someone moving away from here, Soda went to war."

She covered her lips with the palm of her hand. She wasn't supposed to say something like that. It wasn't fair.

"I don't think this is still about Soda," Johnny said. "I think it'd be real nice if it was. That way, ya wouldn't have to apologize to Lucy …"

"Lucy should apologize to _me_."

"She should, but that ain't the point. Ya wouldn't have to apologize to Lucy, and ya wouldn't have to own up to the fact that this is just as much about you as it's about her."

Sadie folded her arms across her chest. She thought about what Johnny had just said, and while he wasn't entirely wrong, she wished he were. Surely there was something she'd done to make Lucy feel like she had to keep the real moving date a secret. Somewhere inside of herself, Sadie knew that. She was just too proud to admit it – and she knew that, too.

"I'm sorry to say all this, 'cause I don't wanna kick ya when you're down," Johnny said. "But I hope you see that I ain't tryin' to kick ya – at least, I ain't tryin' to hurt ya."

"I know," Sadie said, without missing a beat. She saw the color return to Johnny's face when she assured him of that. "Maybe I wouldn't be so mad at y'all if I didn't hate on change so much."

"Maybe. But you ain't the only problem. Hell, your problem's pretty small. Not a lot of people like change. I don't like it. You think I'm crazy about losin' Dally to the other side of the country? Who's gonna look after us after he's gone?"

"We'll look after each other."

"I know, but it ain't like havin' a real hood on your side."

Sadie nodded. She understood. Although Lucy was far from a hood, she was the toughest of the women, and it broke Sadie's heart to know that if she ever had a daughter, Lucy wouldn't be around everyday to teach that daughter what it meant to be strong. Sadie would have to learn whatever it was on her own. She wasn't useless, but she wasn't Lucy. At least, that was the way she chose to see it.

"I think you're skirtin' around somethin' else important," Sadie said.

"Am I?" Johnny asked.

"Yeah. I ain't necessarily in the right yellin' at you and Lucy for keepin' this all a secret from me, but you're _definitely _not in the right for keepin' the secret in the first place."

Johnny sighed. And here, he was hoping to get out of that.

"I don't wanna be mad at you anymore," Sadie said.

"Then don't be," Johnny said. "It ain't hard to just not be mad. At least, I hope it ain't."

"It's not as easy as I wish it could be. But I wanna get over it."

"Good."

"But first, I have to know. Why'd you keep it from me? Why didn't you tell me that you knew when you knew? And you knew for _days _before I figured it out!"

Johnny took another deep breath and planted himself on the couch. Sadie stood above him, and even though she was only about an inch and a half taller than he was, she looked so much bigger and stronger that way.

"It wasn't my place, and it wasn't my secret," Johnny said. "C'mon. You know that. We don't just walk around tellin' each other's secrets. Unless you're Lilly, and that's a habit she's gotta kick before she has this baby."

Sadie shrugged in casual agreement.

"I couldn't tell ya," Johnny said. "It would've hurt you even more, and I think you know that. It would have hurt you to hear it from me. It would have hurt Lucy to know that I didn't trust her enough to tell you on her own. And I get it, Sadie, you're my wife, which makes you first in everything I do. But that don't change the fact that Lucy and Dally are my friends. They're _our _friends. I didn't want to hurt them, either."

"So you stayed quiet," Sadie said.

"Yeah," Johnny said. "Maybe it wasn't the best choice. I know it wasn't. But I didn't feel like I had a much better one. Sometimes, all ya got is rotten apples."

Sadie almost smiled as she sat down next to Johnny on the couch. She wrapped her arms around him and could feel him start to relax. Even if fighting had been his idea, Sadie knew he still didn't enjoy it. They'd been working for years to figure out what it meant to fight well. When they'd initially started dating, Sadie tried to avoid fighting or bickering with Johnny in any way at all. She felt it was too much. But after they realized they'd be together a long, long time, Sadie knew they'd have to figure out a way to fight without getting out of control. They'd have to fight the way that Sadie's parents used to.

She hoped they were doing a good enough job.

"I get it," Sadie said. "I mean, I can't say I'm thrilled with the fact that y'all were keepin' secrets, especially you, but I get it."

"Do you really?" Johnny asked. He sounded as hopeful as he used to when he was a little kid.

"Well, yeah. You've gotta stay true to your friends, too. It gets a little messy when you and your wife got the same friends and all that, but …"

"But I just didn't want to get in between you and Lucy. I didn't think that'd be fair to either of ya."

Sadie kissed Johnny's cheek, and she could have sworn she felt him blush.

"You're right," Sadie said. "It wouldn't have been."

"So, what are you gonna do?" Johnny asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, are you gonna talk to Lucy?"

Sadie sighed.

"I dunno," she said. "She kept this from me on purpose. She wasn't just keepin' it a secret from everybody. She was keepin' it a secret _from me_."

"It was only 'cause she didn't want to make ya cry."

"Yeah, I was gonna cry either way. I think she knows that. I'd have been destroyed if I came over to Great Books next Sunday, lookin' for her, only to find she was all the way gone. I don't know how she thought that was _better_."

"She didn't. She still don't. But you gotta understand. You understand, don't ya?"

Sadie closed her eyes and took a deep breath in. She tried to push down all the anger coming up through her heart and into her nose and mouth – tried to push it down into the soles of her shoes and under the ground. She thought about Lucy, though she didn't think about Dally's wife or Elenore's more. She thought about the Lucy she knew when she was just fourteen years old.

* * *

In the summer of 1963, after they put on their friendship rings for the first time, Lucy Bennet and Sadie Curtis were inseparable.

They went to lunch together. They had dinner together. They read from the same book at the same time, to the point where they could read the same number of words per minute. It was almost like they could speak their own language. Soda liked to say it was like he and Sadie had gained a triplet over the past year, and in a way, he was right. But in that first year that Lucy lived in Tulsa, nothing came between her and Sadie.

There was one night early that summer when the girls were spending the evening together in the Curtises' backyard. Mr. and Mrs. Curtis were out on a date to the movies, and Pony was alone in his room, sulking because his parents didn't want to take their youngest son on a date. Darry was on some date or another, too, and Soda was in the living room, watching _Gunsmoke _on the television. That left Lucy and Sadie.

The two of them had the radio on as they talked about everything under the sun, which was burning Lucy's pale skin and setting slowly in the sky. They talked about what life would be like once they were both finally finished with high school, like their dream to rent the apartment above Great Books and study literature together in college. There was, of course, the alternate plan, where they were accepted to (and could afford to attend) Bryn Mawr, where they'd study literature together and find another quaint bookshop to live above. Either way, in the future, Lucy Bennet and Sadie Curtis were near to one another. That just seemed to be a given.

"And I'll get a job near to campus after I graduate, at least for the first year," Lucy said. "That way, while you finish up your classes, we won't have to worry about being apart."

"Sounds like a good idea to me," Sadie said. "You've only been here a little less than a year, and I don't know what I'd do without you around the block."

"I don't know what I'd do without you, either. Hell, I don't know what I did without you before I moved down here."

"Neither do I, really."

"Well, it's a good thing we don't have to think about it anymore. We've got it all planned out."

Sadie beamed from ear to ear. This was everything she'd always wished for when she blew out her side of the birthday candles on the cake she shared with Soda each year. As much as she loved her brothers and her friends around the neighborhood whom she'd always known, and as much as she loved being a twin with a built-in best buddy, she'd always been envious of those girls who had a girl best friend. More than that, she'd always been envious of those girls who had a girl best friend who really understood them. She had Jane and the others, whom she loved dearly, but it was never the same. Until a few months earlier, Jane had been best friends with Violet Winston, and Katie and Lilly had always been best friends with each other. Carrie was always more interested in Ponyboy than she was in Sadie, and until Lucy came around, that left Sadie in the cold. She wished every year for a girl best friend to come around and love her for absolutely and nothing but herself. She'd wished for that every year except for that year, on her fourteenth birthday.

That year, she wished she and her family would always have Lucy Bennet around.

The girls turned their attention to the radio, where Ray Charles had started to play. It was "I Can't Stop Loving You," a song that had been everywhere for the past year or so. While Sadie was going to complain about hearing the same songs over and over again, Lucy was extending her hand toward Sadie like some kind of royal gesture. Sadie furrowed her brow.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" Lucy asked. "I'm asking you to dance."

"But I'm a girl."

"So?"

"So, you're a girl, too."

"A girl and a girl can dance. It doesn't mean you don't have a big crush on Johnny Cade anymore."

Sadie turned pinker than her mother's roses. She loved those roses and insisted on growing them, even if the rest of the neighborhood didn't look very rose-friendly. When Sadie looked at her mother's roses that evening when she was fourteen, she knew she'd have to do something with roses one day. She just didn't know what it was yet.

"Shut _up_!" Sadie said, though she was giggling all the while.

"What?" Lucy asked, and she was laughing, too. "I know you've never told me in those exact words, but you have to know it's pretty easy for me to tell."

"I don't want it to be!"

"Well, then, stop blushing so much whenever you see him."

Sadie jovially rolled her eyes and stepped forward to take Lucy's hand. The girls began to dance, and Sadie realized just how much fun it could be to dance with someone who wasn't your brother. Lucy was a good dancer, too. She knew how to keep up with the rhythm of the song, and she knew how to dip like they were in a ballroom. That made Sadie laugh to high heaven.

"If I ever get married, promise you'll dance with me like this at the party afterward," Sadie said.

"I promise," Lucy said. "I'll make sure it's Ray Charles, too. That'll scare the shit out of your family."

"Maybe. Do you promise we can dance like this if you ever get married, too?"

But Lucy shrugged.

"I don't know," she said. "It's not that I don't want to dance with you. I do, otherwise I wouldn't have made the offer a minute ago."

"What is it, then?"

"I just don't think I'm really built for getting married."

"Well, of course you are. Isn't everybody?"

Lucy shook her head, much to Sadie's surprise.

"I don't think so," she said. "I think I'm meant to do really well in school and make a weird job for myself or something. I don't know how I could manage to be a professor like my dad if I was married or if I had a kid of my own. I mean, the only reason my dad can do it is because he's the husband and the father. If my mother tried to be a professor … well, I can't even make it through that sentence because the idea is so absurd. But you get what I'm saying, I'm sure."

Sadie nodded.

"Yeah," she said. "I just think it's kind of sad."

"You shouldn't think it's sad. You should think it's liberating."

Sadie wondered how much Lucy actually believed that. She hoped she believed it a lot because Sadie, too, wanted it to be true. At fourteen, she was quite sure wanted and needed to be married, but she wanted other girls to grow up and become women who could safely choose not to marry. She wondered what that might be like.

"I don't know about you," Sadie said. "I think you could go either way."

"What do you mean by that?" Lucy asked.

"I mean I think you could never get married, or you could get married. But either way, I think you could be happy."

"That seems a little farfetched, don't you think?"

"Not at all! Dally likes you."

It was Lucy's turn to blush as pink as Mrs. Curtis's roses.

"No," she said, almost sputtering over that one, simple word. "He doesn't like anyone. He doesn't like anything. He's dirt. He's lower than dirt."

"You can't tell me you believe that," Sadie said.

"I don't need to believe it. I can prove it, and that counts for a whole hell of a lot more."

"Well, you're out of your mind if you don't see it. Everybody does."

"Sure."

Sadie decided to drop the issue. Eventually, Lucy would figure out just how right she was, but it wasn't the right time. The girls kept up their sway as the song wore on.

"Do you think we'll have to grow up at some point?" Sadie asked.

"Sure," Lucy said. "We're growing up right now, aren't we?"

"We are, yeah. That's true. But look around at where we live. Look at where I'm from. You don't see a lot of women who traveled the world or got college degrees. I don't think I've met any woman with a college degree in my whole life except for our teachers."

"They're out there."

"Yeah, maybe, but they're few and far between. Most of the women I know get married and have kids. It seems like the thing you have to do if you're a woman."

"You don't _have _to, you know."

"Well, maybe not. But it seems like it's the option that makes the most sense. It seems like it's the option that will keep you in a house with food on your plate. And maybe … I don't know. Maybe that's the option I should be looking toward."

"You're fourteen years old!"

"That's nothing. My dad knew a girl who got married and dropped out of school when she was thirteen."

"Well, that's disgusting, and it will never happen to you. For one thing, it will never happen to you because you've already aged beyond thirteen."

"_Lucy_. You know what I mean."

Lucy sighed, keeping up the sway.

"Sure," she said. "Maybe one day, we'll all fall in line and worship the almighty patriarchy. But I don't want it to happen to either of us, and I don't want it to happen any time soon."

"But what if it needs to?" Sadie asked. "What if we _want it _to?"

Lucy took a breath.

"We'll know," she said. "I don't know how, but I know we will."

"And it won't feel wrong or bad or scary?"

"I sure as hell hope not. Otherwise, I don't know what I'm doing on this planet."

"You're so dramatic, Lucy."

"I am, but I think you love me for it."

Sadie laughed. There was no way Lucy could have known how true that was.

"What's going to happen if we decide to get married?" Sadie asked. "What will happen to us?"

"We'll have to make sure we honor Virginia Woolf and Aphra Behn," Lucy said.

"I'm being serious. What will happen to you and me? You know … as best friends."

Lucy's smile was bittersweet, and Sadie decided in that very moment that she'd always remember that smile. It was the first time she'd seen Lucy look a true shade of vulnerable.

"I don't think there's anything in the world that would keep me from being your best friend," Lucy said.

Sadie tried to suppress her grin and look cooler than she really was, but she couldn't.

"Good," she said. "I don't think there's anything in the world that would keep me from it, either. You know why?"

"Why?"

"'Cause _I can't stop looooviiiing yoooouuuu_!"

Lucy threw her head back and laughed.

"Yeah," she said. "Neither can I."

* * *

With her head on Johnny's shoulder, Sadie tried not to cry. It didn't work. She was shedding tears right into the fabric of his shirt. He kissed the top of her head, trying to comfort her (and sure he was failing).

"I understand," Sadie finally said. "I don't like it, really, but I understand it. She didn't tell me 'cause we said we'd always be together. And I think even if we knew then that we wouldn't be, we weren't prepared for how it was gonna feel when we finally had to split apart."

"How does it feel?" Johnny asked.

"What?"

"How does it feel? Maybe you'll feel better if you let yourself talk about it. I don't think it's doin' you much good to believe you have to be mad at her for the rest of your lives."

Sadie lifted her head from Johnny's shoulder, looked him in the eye, and felt herself begin to cry a little bit more. She wasn't hysterical, but there was pain in her heart that wasn't there when she was only angry.

"I feel scared," Sadie said. "I feel like … I was so lonely before she came here. And I wasn't, really. I had all of you. But it wasn't until Lucy came here that it felt … complete. Like there was somebody for everybody. And now that she's gonna be gone … I don't know, babe. I guess I'm scared she's never gonna want to come back. And if she never comes back, then what happens to me? I don't know if I can go back to feelin' like I ain't complete. I just don't know if I can do that."

She gripped the cushion beneath her with all her strength; then Johnny took her hand in his and looked her right in the eye. He was firm – something he sometimes forgot how to be. Even in the midst of her fear and her sadness, Sadie couldn't help but admire that firmness in her husband. She might even show him how much she admired it later.

"I know you're scared of losin' Lucy," Johnny said. "I know you been scared of that since she got here. I get it. It's the same way I felt when Dally moved back here from New York in '62. I kept gettin' scared that he was gonna get sick of us and move back, and if he did, then who'd be around to take care of me?"

Sadie nodded. She wanted to remind Johnny that part of the reason Dally had stayed in Tulsa was because he had too much fun flirting with Lucy, whom he used to believe was uninterested, but she kept her mouth shut. She didn't want to make it all about her (and she too often did).

"But it's like I've been sayin' since we had Michael," Johnny said. "We ain't kids anymore. We have kids. And things are different than they were in '62. I still panic every time I hear a noise I ain't expectin' to hear, and you still got that chipped front tooth. But we ain't those kids we used to be. When Lucy and Dally leave, they ain't gonna be gone. Not really, anyway. We learned a lot from 'em."

"Yeah," Sadie said. "We really have."

"We have. And the good thing is now that we've had 'em here for so long, they'll come back. They'll call us. Things ain't the way they used to be in '62 'cause before '62, we never met Lucy. We didn't know how Dally was really gonna turn out. But we know now. And we can't really be incomplete if we know what it's like to have 'em, can we?"

Sadie shook her head.

"I dunno," she said. "I hope not."

"It's better to have had 'em around for this long," Johnny said. "Trust me. We've had 'em for so long, I don't think they can stay away."

Sadie rested her chin on Johnny's shoulder again. She thought she might be able to sit like that forever. It would be nice, she thought. It would be nice to sit with Johnny and Michael and never have to worry about anything ever again. But she knew she'd never be done worrying. That was the thing about loving as deeply and as much as Sadie did. It meant you were always a little on edge – always a little worried. It seemed a worthy price to pay.

"I hope you're right," Sadie said.

"I think you know I am," Johnny said.

"Yeah, maybe. Tell me more things."

"Like what?"

"Like tell me how things are better now than they were when I was a kid. Tell me how Lucy ain't gonna forget me, and Dally ain't gonna forget you. Tell me how it's gonna be OK to live here without 'em."

Johnny sighed a little and squeezed Sadie's hand. She felt a tingle go up and down her spine. She thought. Even if she wasn't the same kid she used to be, her husband could still make her feel like it was the first time they were holding hands. She decided to count that as a good thing.

"It's gonna be OK 'cause we're all different now," Johnny said. "Me and you have got each other now. And we had each other then, but it's different now that we're married and now that we got Michael. There ain't a way out."

"Would you like there to be?" Sadie asked. "A way out?"

Johnny shook his head. Sadie breathed a very quiet sigh of relief.

"Naw," Johnny said. "Sadie, I dunno if I say this enough, but I love you. And whenever … I dunno, whenever I feel afraid like I always have, I know it ain't gonna last for very long 'cause I got you to help me through it. I'm scared about the way things are changin', too, but I ain't gonna let it get me down. I ain't that same kid in the loudest house on the block no more. I got my own house. Got my own kid. Got my own wife, and when we fight, it ends like this."

Sadie smiled. She wondered if Johnny knew just how proud she was of the two of them.

"I hope you feel the same way," he said. "Sometimes … sometimes I just need to hear ya say it."

And Sadie grabbed Johnny's face and kissed him harder than she had in days.

"I know I've got you," Sadie said. "I know that it's gonna be hard after Lucy moves. It's gonna feel like something's missin'. And somethin' will be missin'. I know that. You do, too. But it ain't gonna kill me, and it ain't gonna tear me apart. I ain't the lonely kid in the old Curtis house no more. I got you. You … well, ya just have a knack for makin' things better. I don't know how ya do it, but I'm glad ya do."

She kissed him again (and again and again and again). All the while, she knew that while the next few days would sting almost as bad as the first few days after Soda shipped out in '68, nothing would ever be that bad again. It would be awful not to have Lucy around everyday, all the time. Sadie remembered how hard it was before she came around, and she hated to think about it. But it wouldn't be the same this time. She was older. She was stronger and smarter and tougher. And this time, faced with a neighborhood without Lucy, Sadie had Johnny, and he had her. They were each other's company.

* * *

"Gimme one night."

Lucy looked up from her book and furrowed her brow at Dally.

"What?"

"You heard me, Bennet," Dally said. "Gimme one night."

"I've given you plenty of nights," Lucy said. "We're married."

"That's not what I mean."

"Well, then, by all means. Explain."

Dally sighed and sat down next to Lucy. Admittedly, he had no idea what he was going to say. He just knew he wanted to spend the rest of the night talking about anything other than Sadie and how Sadie was going to feel after the move. He was much more concerned about what would happen to himself and his wife after they were gone. They'd spent so much time thinking about what would happen before they moved and as they were moving that they hadn't given a lot of thought to what might happen after they were there. He wasn't going to tell Lucy he was thinking about any of that, though he wasn't sure it mattered whether he said a word. Lucy just always seemed to know and understand.

"I dunno," he said. "We're gonna be outta here in a few days. Years of livin' here, and in a few days, that won't be true no more."

"You're not getting sentimental on me, are you?" Lucy asked.

"No, you're the sentimental one, man."

"I am _not_."

"You've kept old tubes of lipstick. You know what you were doin' when you were wearin' 'em. That's what they call _sentimental_."

Lucy frowned because she knew he was right.

"So, is that what you want to talk about?" she asked. "You want to talk about what's going to happen once we're finally there?"

Dally didn't say anything, so Lucy took his silence as affirmative. It usually was. She sunk down into her seat just a little, trying to relax when she thought about what was going to happen, but she couldn't. The more relaxed she tried to make herself, the tenser she became.

"I can't believe I'm about to do this," she said, "but I'm about to tell you everything I've been feeling lately."

"Is it gonna take a long time?" Dally asked.

"It's going to take as long as it needs to take, and you're going to sit here and listen to it because you're the one who started it, whether you like that or not."

Again, Dally didn't say anything. He knew he'd started this conversation. He was glad to have started it. He liked listening to what was going on in Lucy's head. It was always infinitely more interesting than whatever he could catch on the radio or the television. Plus, Lucy always looked pretty when she was letting go of something that hurt her to carry around. She was always pretty, but there was something about watching her let go of her stress. It was when she seemed the most … well, it was when she seemed the most _Lucy_.

"I don't know why I'm so sad and so scared," Lucy said. "I should be thrilled, right? I should be jumping up and down, ready to leave this place."

"Why?" Dally asked. "That'd be a weird thing to do."

"I don't mean it literally, though I guess I could. What I mean is … I _want _to do this. I want to move on with you and Elenore. I want to get a Ph.D. It's the thing I want most in the world, except for you and Elenore to be happy."

"I think Elenore could be happy. I think I'm a lost fuckin' cause."

"You're not, and you know it, so shove it."

Dally said nothing and made no sudden movements. Somewhere inside of himself, he knew Lucy was right. It was just terrifying to admit that after almost twenty years of figuring he was a lost cause and that there was nothing he could do to really live in the world, he might be worth someone's time. He might be worth _his own _time. He'd never had to come face to face with the possibility that he was worth living for until Lucy kept pushing him that way. He was trying, but he was sure he was doing it wrong, whatever it was.

Lucy sighed and looked up at the ceiling before she went on.

"Whenever my parents and I used to move from one state to the next, I couldn't wait to leave," she said. "I thought that wherever we moved next … it would be my place. I felt that way until they told me we were moving to Tulsa and staying there. I didn't want to live in the South. I'd only heard horrible, _horrible _things."

"Like what?"

"_The Civil War_, Dally."

"Oh, _that _fuckin' thing."

Lucy closed her eyes briefly and wondered how she could possibly stand to be married to a man who referred to the Civil War as "that fuckin' thing." Then again, he was Dally, and she knew exactly what he meant. She opened her eyes and kept talking.

"But this time, I'm sad," Lucy said. "I know _sad _is such a simple word, but really, it covers a lot. I was never leaving anything behind in any of those places, except when we left Lynnie's family in Connecticut, but I was so young I don't even remember leaving. And I just feel guilty that I'm not thrilled to be walking out that door. I'm supposed to want this. I _do _want this. But if I wanted it badly enough, wouldn't I … I don't know, wouldn't I be OK with leaving?"

For Dally, the answer was clear.

"No," he said.

Lucy sat up and wrinkled her nose at him.

"No?" she asked.

"Fuck no," Dally said. "Bennet, man, you know better than this. You're just talkin' to hear your own voice. And it ain't like I blame you on that one. You got a good fuckin' voice."

"Literally."

"Yeah, yeah, we got a kid in this house. But that ain't the point. You know you wanna leave. You know ya wanna go to school and have this job. That's why we packed everything up. That's why we got a fuckin' apartment. That's why you ain't said, this whole time we been sittin' here talkin' about you bein' sad, that you don't think you should go. 'Cause you know ya should. You know ya have to."

Lucy swallowed hard. Dally was right, though she wouldn't confirm that for him. It wouldn't have mattered, anyway. Dally had a knack for knowing when he was right. But he had a point. Lucy knew she had to go. She knew that this was what she was being called to do. She was supposed to write and learn and teach and grow. She was supposed to earn this degree so she could reveal to Elenore that women can be intelligent and have fruitful careers. When she thought about not going – and occasionally, in the darkest parts of the night when she couldn't sleep at all, she did think about that – she felt sicker and sadder than she did when she thought about how it would feel to drive away for the last time. The choice was obvious in that there was no choice. Lucy needed to go.

"I guess it's not that simple," Lucy said. "It's not as simple as wanting something as badly as I want to do this while also needing to leave my whole family behind to do it."

"You ain't leavin' your _whole _family, ya know," Dally said. "'S far 's I know, me and the kid are comin' with you. Unless we're walkin' into another 'Bennet runs away to her folks' house in the middle of the night' situation, man."

Lucy rolled her eyes. She hated when he brought that up.

"Of course you're coming with me," she said. "Don't take this the wrong way or anything, but I can't imagine moving on without you there."

"How could I take that the wrong fuckin' way?"

"You might stop to think that I'm vulnerable."

"Oh, I know you're vulnerable."

"What proof could you possibly have?"

"You've spent the past day cryin' about how ya might lose Sadie. Sounds pretty fuckin' vulnerable to me."

As soon as Lucy heard Sadie's name, all of the air left her lungs. Dally immediately regretted saying it. And here, he'd wanted a night between himself and his wife where they didn't talk about Sadie. Of course, he should have known better. When your wife has a best friend like Lucy had Sadie, the best friend becomes part of everything. Secretly, Dally liked that about the two of them. It reminded him that what Johnny said once might actually be true. There was still a lot of good left in the world.

"I should really talk to her again," Lucy said. "Before the wedding, if that's possible. I don't want to spend the wedding in a fight with her."

"The way ya say it, it's like you're gettin' married to each other," Dally said, almost joking.

"Oh, we've been married for nearly seven years. We've always known that. Since we danced to Ray Charles in the backyard. After we promised each other that we'd dance together like that at each other's weddings, we promised that whoever we were married to had to know that they were married to both of us. It was a whole deal."

"But ya didn't dance together at each other's weddings. Ya didn't _have _weddings."

"Maybe not, but I think we held up our other end of the bargain pretty well. You feel like you're married to Sadie, too?"

"Without any-a the perks, but sure."

Lucy laughed a little; then she heard Elenore's scurried little footsteps. She ran out into the living room and stopped in front of her parents with a wildly happy look in her eye. When Lucy saw that look, she began to laugh even more.

"Hi, honey," Lucy said. "What're you doing?"

"Ya talkin' about Sadie," Elenore said.

Lucy stood up from the couch, grabbed Elenore, and put her right in her lap. She kissed her daughter's cheek and nodded.

"Yeah," she said. "We were talking about Sadie."

"We gonna see Sadie?" Elenore asked.

There was such incredible hope in her eyes. Lucy hoped she'd never see that hope burn out. So, she nodded.

"Yeah," Lucy said. "We're going to see Sadie."

"When?"

"Soon."

And though there was no way Lucy could have known, Sadie was sitting on her own couch a few blocks away, thinking exactly the same thing.

* * *

**Ugh, I am not the biggest fan of this chapter. I had to cut a lot out of it that I had originally planned to write … not for length, really, since you know long chapters don't bother me, but because they really didn't match up with the momentum and thematic leanings of this chapter. I originally wanted to include a scene between Two-Bit and Katie, but it just didn't fit with the rest of the scenes or with the thematic leanings of the story in general. I know it feels as though characters like Katie Mathews and Carrie Shepard are really sidelined (because they are!), but believe me when I say I have bigger plans for them than these first four multi-chap fics may suggest.**

**Hinton owns **_**The Outsiders**_**. I quote a couple of short lines from "The Battle of the Bands" by The Turtles, which I also obviously do not own. What I do own is this red cardigan that I have on for no particular reason. It's hot out. What am I doing to myself?**


	13. Chapter 13

Lucy's parents insisted on having them over for dinner on the night of May 13. Though Lucy was more than happy to go and spend some time with her parents before they left, she was a little frustrated by her mother's sadness.

"Mom, come on," she said. "We're going to see you plenty of times before Saturday."

"I know, Lucy," Esther said as she prepared the fried chicken (Lucy's favorite food). "But when tomorrow rolls around, you'll be busy with the wedding rehearsal, and Friday is the wedding."

"Mom, you'll be _at the wedding_. _Your niece _is getting married."

"Oh, I know, but it's not the same. You'll be busy with Lynnie; I'll be busy with your Aunt Lois. We won't get hardly any time together."

Lucy sighed and hugged her mother from behind. She hadn't realized just how much she'd miss being able to pop over to her mother and father's house on any old evening. She silently cursed herself for not learning about her mother before the last year.

"I know," Lucy said. "You make a good point."

"But we won't go too long without seeing each other," Esther said. "I'm already making plans to make it to New York for Labor Day weekend."

"Labor Day weekend?" Lucy asked, a little incredulous. "Mom, that's less than four months away."

"And for someone I've seen almost everyday of her life, four months is eternity. Besides, your father and I remember what it was like to live on the East Coast on Labor Day. No one's in Manhattan. Everyone flocks to New Haven and the like. We'll be fine."

Lucy sighed. She pretended to be irritated, but that wasn't entirely true. She was just glad to have a mother who wanted her daughter in her life. She silently cursed herself again for ignoring her mother for so long.

She walked over to Elenore, who was sitting at the kitchen table, making some swirls with the crayons that her grandparents always kept within her reach. Lucy made a note to make sure she always had crayons for Elenore in New York. She lifted her daughter out of the chair and put her on her hip.

"Hey!" Elenore objected. "I was _drawing_."

"I know you were drawing," Lucy said. "But we're going to talk to your grandmother right now."

"_Why_?"

"Because …"

But Lucy's voice got caught in her throat. At first, she wanted to be completely honest with Elenore. They were going to talk to Esther because in three days, they'd be traveling across the country, and they wouldn't be able to walk over to her spot in the kitchen and watch her fry up a chicken breast anymore. Elenore was three years old, and she wouldn't know how much she'd miss being able to sidle up to her grandmother like that until she couldn't do it anymore. But even though Lucy wanted to be completely honest with Elenore, she realized she couldn't be, and that had nothing to do with Elenore.

"Because she loves you," Lucy said.

Luckily, that was enough for Elenore. She leapt out of her mother's arms and straight into her grandmother's grasp within a matter of seconds.

"I'm going to make you show her my picture everyday," Esther said, not taking her eyes off Elenore. "I don't ever want her to forget me."

"She's never going to," Lucy said. "You're her grandma. Just because we're not going to be a few blocks away doesn't mean we won't all be together."

Esther chuckled.

"Oh, Lucy," she said. "Sometimes, you really do sound too much like a writer."

"A good one or a bad one?"

"Do you really want me to answer that question?"

Lucy sighed, and Esther kept laughing. Elenore laughed right along with her grandmother. For a second, Lucy thought about what it might be like to stay, but she didn't let herself dwell on it. It wouldn't do any good.

"How am I going to do it?" Lucy asked. She was surprised by her own frankness.

"Do what?" Esther asked. "Go to school and get your degree? Same way you always have. You're the hardest worker I've ever met, and I've met _myself_."

"No, not school. I know I can do that. I'm Lucy."

Esther almost let herself smile at that one.

"Go on, then," she said. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know," Lucy said, despite the fact that she knew exactly what she wanted to say. "I guess … when I see you here, in this kitchen, holding Elenore, I think … how am I going to do it? How am I going to be a mother?"

"You already are a mother. In case you hadn't realized it, this girl is already three."

"Mom, I'm not looking for sarcasm."

"Well, if you're not looking for sarcasm, what in the world are you looking for?"

But Lucy and Esther just stared at each other on that one. They both knew Lucy would never ask for comfort, especially not from her mother. They both knew Lucy would never ask for comfort, but she needed it. Esther, who gave everything up to be a mother, knew exactly what to do.

"You're so strong, you know that?" Esther asked.

"Don't say that," Lucy said.

"Why not?"

"_Strong _is a word we throw at women when we don't know what else to say."

"No, _pretty _is a word we throw at women when we don't know what else to say. I wish someone had thrown the word _strong _at me. Maybe then …"

Her voice trailed off, but Lucy knew what she was going to say. _Maybe then Esther Bennet would have been the kind of mother Lucy enjoyed having_. They'd never speak it, but they knew it was true. Lucy cursed herself for it again.

"Well, even if you don't want to believe it, it's true," Esther said. "You're strong. You've always done exactly what you needed to do."

Lucy took a beat; then covered Elenore's ears.

"But how does that translate into being a good mother?" Lucy asked. "I spent a whole year of life walking around selfishly, like I could do whatever I wanted. I stayed out late. I almost never called. Do you have any idea how dangerous that was? I could have lost her. I could have …"

Her voice trailed off, too, but Esther knew what she was going to say. Lucy could have lost herself. Maybe she believed that. Esther, however, didn't believe it for a second. There was no such thing as a lost Lucy.

"Well, I wasn't there for her," Lucy said. "And I don't want that to happen again. Think about why we're moving. We're moving because of _me_. We're moving because of something _I _want to do. What if she gets mixed up in that? What if sometimes, I can't tell the difference between Elenore Winston and Elinor Dashwood?"

"Considering you're not studying Austen, I think you'll be all right."

"You _know _what I mean."

"I do, but I think you're just saying things for the sake of saying them. You know this move isn't just about you. It's about Elenore, too. Don't you want her to grow up and watch you do everything you've always wanted to do? Don't you want her to see how many options she's going to have when she grows up, too?"

Lucy nodded. It was exactly what she'd been thinking about the day before, but in her mind, it wasn't that easy. She kissed Elenore's cheek but kept her hands on her ears. Elenore didn't need to listen to her mother's anxieties. She didn't need to take on her mother's anxieties as her own.

"But what if I get so caught up in the symbolism that I forget I have a real human daughter?" Lucy asked. "You said it yourself. Sometimes, I'm too much of a writer. What if that happens? What if I become too much writer and not enough mother?"

Esther leaned forward and kissed Lucy on top of her forehead. All the while, Lucy was surprised by how much she appreciated it. She hoped she could find that affection in herself, too.

"You are a wonderful person," Esther said in a voice more comforting than Lucy could ever remember coming from her mother. "That's what makes you a wonderful writer and a wonderful mother. You don't have to be one or the other. You know that."

"Do I, though?" Lucy asked.

"Yeah. You do."

Lucy decided she'd hold onto that. She'd hold onto it through dinner that night, through the walk back to Great Books, and through the drive to New York in a few days. It wasn't just that her mother had said something kind and comforting to her. It was that her mother knew her. She knew her better than Lucy had ever given her credit.

She hoped one day, Elenore wouldn't need to have the same realization about her. Lucy hoped that Elenore would always know.

* * *

Dally ran his index finger up and down Dr. Bennet's bookshelves for what he realized, somewhat awkwardly, would be the last time he could do that for quite a while. He was going slowly and purposefully before Dr. Jack Bennet came into the room and, naturally, he had to pretend like he didn't give a damn.

"I wasn't touchin' nothing," Dally said (and immediately wondered when he became the kind of guy who wanted to hide his behavior from someone else).

"I know you were," Jack said. "And I think, by now, you know it's OK for you to go up and down my books. In fact, I think I've always encouraged it."

Dally shrugged.

"Maybe," he said. "Guess I still think I gotta hide shit from old men."

"Am I really so old?" Jack asked.

"Naw. You know what I mean."

"Perhaps I do."

Jack came around to one of the shelves and quickly scanned it. He furrowed his brow and then turned back to Dally with a surprised look on his face.

"I can't believe I'm saying this," Jack said, "but I think you've read everything on this side of the shelf. Well, with the notable exception of _In Search of Lost Time_."

"Well, gimme that one, then," Dally said, surprised by his own willingness.

"Oh, no, no, no. Not yet. Maybe not ever. Lucy's never even read beyond the first volume, as far as I know."

"You think she's smarter than me or somethin'?"

"I _know _she's smarter than you."

"Yeah, me too."

"But not by too much."

Without realizing it, Dally straightened his spine and looked Jack straight in the eye. He didn't know how to do this. He didn't know how to take a compliment. In the years he'd been married to Lucy, he'd received a few (mostly from Lucy and her father), but even after almost five years (five years _as a Bennet_), he didn't know how to do this. He didn't know how to be well. All he knew how to do was straighten his spine and then slouch again.

"C'mon," he said, his voice thick with something like embarrassment, "you don't mean to call your own daughter dumb, do ya?"

"I think you know that's not what I'm doing," Jack said. "As a matter of fact, I know you know that."

All Dally could do was shrug. What was he supposed to say? Luckily, he didn't have to think about it for very long, as Jack wandered over to the cookie cabinet he kept next to the bookshelf (a fairly new addition that Esther had insisted upon after Elenore graduated to solid foods). He pulled out a package of Chips Ahoy, pulled back the sleeve, and held one up for Dally to take.

"Naw, man," he said.

"Oh, that's right," Jack said. "I forgot. You're cool. You have to refuse anything that's been offered to you kindly the first time around."

He stuck the cookie out a little farther, and this time, Dally took it. He didn't know why he'd been so reluctant, anyway. It had been a long time since he'd had one of those cookies, but he wasn't sure why, either. When he took a bite, it occurred to him, all in a split second. He must have made a face because Jack started talking to him again after that.

"What?" he asked. "What are you thinking about?"

"Nothin'," Dally said. It was the only response he really knew how to give, especially with someone's father in the room.

"That doesn't look like a nothing face. Trust me. I've seen a nothing face. You've never had one."

Dally bit his tongue to prevent himself from accepting Jack's latest compliment.

"I dunno when this was," he said, staring at the half-eaten cookie between his forefinger and thumb, "but it had to have been after I came back here from Brooklyn. I went to see my sister. I was never supposed to do that, but it ain't like I cared. We were talkin' about how she was real pissed at Jane Randle for somethin' or other. I dunno, but you've met Jane Randle. It's real easy to get pissed at her."

"Well, she sure is chatty," Jack said. "But I like Jane."

Dally almost said he liked Jane, too, but that would have been too much. This conversation was already more than enough. He kept staring at the cookie as he spoke.

"Well, my sister told me she was at the store, and she ran into Jane Randle, lookin' for a thing of these fuckin' cookies, man, these exact ones," Dally said. "And my sister was in the aisle with the cookies. She saw there was only one left, and as soon as Jane came 'round the corner, my sister snatched 'em up and took 'em herself. She even paid for 'em at the front of the store and everything, just to rub it in Jane's face."

"You're smiling like you're proud of your sister's pettiness," Jack said.

"Not really," Dally said, trying and failing to wipe the smile off his face. "I guess … I dunno, I guess I like thinkin' back to those times when it was just me and V. My sister. When the old man was nowhere to be found and didn't care about gettin' her back inside for his own fun. I don't think back to those times a lot. Probably 'cause there ain't too many."

He looked down at the cookie again.

"This fuckin' cookie reminded me of it, I guess," he said, trying not to sound like some sentimental Lucy. "I guess it tastes like bein' with her when we were kids. Guess I … I dunno. I guess sometimes I feel kinda bad we didn't get more time like that. Guess I feel kinda bad that when I bit into this thing, that was the only thing I could think back to."

He kept looking at the cookie, thinking it was going to tell him something, but it never did. It was just there. It was just a cookie. He wished it hadn't reminded him of Violet. Violet was perhaps the last person in the world he wanted to think about, except for maybe his old man, but he was always (and never) thinking about his old man. He started to wonder if Violet ran into him and told him that Dally was moving back to New York, but he didn't let himself have the full thought. It didn't matter. The only person in that sharp triangle of a family who really mattered was Violet. She was supposed to have a shot. The old man was set to die before he got too old, and Dally was set to fail, whatever that would end up meaning. But Violet was supposed to have a shot. It killed Dally to know that if she had one, she wasn't taking it. It killed him to think that maybe there was a chance he could have helped her take it, and now, he'd be too far away to really do much for her. He hoped she could do it herself. He hoped she'd _choose _to do it herself – that she'd be able to take a compliment where he never could.

Then, he looked back up at Jack.

"Sometimes," he said, wondering if he'd really go through with the rest of his thought, "I wish I could take V with us. I didn't take her the first time. Feels like … I dunno, man. Feels like I owe it to her now."

"Have you ever asked her if she wants to come along?" Jack asked. "I know Lucy's mentioned it to Esther and me in the past. But have _you _ever asked?"

Dally shook his head.

"Oh, naw, never," he said. "Even if she wanted to come with us, she wouldn't say. She's stubborn as a mule. She's almost forgiven me for leavin' her behind when we was kids, man, but she ain't ever gonna be all the way there. Even if I asked her to come with us, she wouldn't say yes. She doesn't like it when I do things for her. She wants to do 'em herself."

He looked down at his hands and thought about the time he kicked the piss out of Two-Bit for touching Violet's face when she didn't want him to. He thought about how livid Violet was for taking that fight from her. It wasn't until he had Elenore that he realized why. Later, he would mention that thought about understanding Violet after raising Elenore to Lucy, and she would tell him that was "a really clichéd and patriarchal thought to have," but it wasn't time for Lucy's judgment yet. It was his thought, and to him, it made all the sense in the world.

"Fuckin' cookie," he muttered. "Eatin' ain't supposed to remind you of shit. Then it does. Fuckin' dumb, man. Fuckin' dumb."

To that, Jack didn't say anything. He just came around behind Dally and clapped him on the back. Dally craned his neck and furrowed his brow.

"What's that for?" he asked. It wasn't quite accusatory.

"That's the madeleine episode," Jack said.

"The what? I don't know no Madeleine."

But Jack just chuckled.

"No," he said. "The madeleine episode is an excerpt from Proust."

"Who?"

"_In Search of Lost Time_."

Dally nodded. He wasn't sure why it was a big deal, but by the look on Jack's face, it had to be. So he decided to roll with it.

"Congratulations," Jack said. "You've read as much of Proust as you need to read without reading it at all."

He turned his back to check on Esther and Lucy in the kitchen, and once he couldn't see anymore, Dally let himself smile a bit more than he usually would. It wasn't immediately clear why, but somehow, he knew: That was the best thing Jack Bennet could have possibly said to him.

* * *

Two-Bit hadn't planned on it until the day after Darry's wedding, but what with Lucy and Dally leaving (and his getting caught talking with Lilly for a little too long the night before), he figured it was best to do it that evening.

When he picked up Laura from her folks' house that night and drove her down to the Dingo, she was hardly speaking to him, unless it was to snap at him. As he drove, he took her tongue-lashing – mostly because he knew it would quickly come to an end, but also because he knew he deserved it. When they'd run into Lilly the night before, he had a few too many laughs with her. He should have known better. There was nothing worse than watching the person you love have a good laugh with someone they loved before you came around. He tried to tell himself that it didn't matter. He was funny, and everyone who met him wanted to share a laugh with him. But it wasn't that simple when it was Lilly. He'd known it the whole time.

"I don't even know why you'd _want _to go out with me tonight," Laura said. "What if we run into another one of your friends?"

"We ain't gonna run into another one of my friends," Two-Bit said. "Besides, they're your friends, too."

"No, they aren't. They like me fine, but they're not my friends. I'm not even really friends with Lucy, and I know her."

"Well, they're gonna be your friends. They ain't gonna have much of a choice when I'm done with 'em."

"I don't know what that means."

"You will."

"Should I trust you?"

"_Yes_."

Laura crossed her arms and turned her head away from Two-Bit. She looked out the window, and he wondered what she was thinking. He hoped she wasn't thinking that he'd been having too much fun with Lilly. Sure, he'd loved her. He'd loved her quite a lot, and he'd loved her more recently than he was willing to admit in front of anyone, including himself. But that was history, a subject he'd always managed to pass, even when he was trying to flunk. When he looked at Lilly Cade, it wasn't the same as it had been before. He loved her, but he loved her because she was Johnny's sister – his good friend. Now, when he looked at Lilly, all he could think was that he was really happy to be with Laura.

He hoped Laura could hear him thinking about that, somehow.

They pulled into the Dingo, and when they paid for their tickets, the ticket taker looked down at them with a puzzled expression.

"What'cha doin' here on your night off, Two-Bit?" he asked. "When I got the night off, this is the last place I wanna be."

"We live in Tulsa, man," Two-Bit said. "It's a Wednesday night. What else are we gonna do?"

The ticket taker's eyes flickered over to Laura, who began to regret wearing red lipstick that night.

"Well, I dunno about me, but I can make some guesses for you," he said.

Laura rolled her eyes.

"_My girl _sure looks nice tonight," Two-Bit said, trying to take Laura's hand and realizing her arms were still folded across her chest, "and ya make a good point. This place is kinda special for her and me."

The ticket taker went to open his mouth again, but Laura leaned over and hung her head out the window instead.

"I'd keep your tongue in your mouth if I were you," she said.

He did (though Laura could tell there was plenty more he wanted to say about her admittedly poor choice of words for talking to a pervert), and they drove on past. Laura still wasn't happy, and for a split second, Two-Bit wondered if maybe he brought her out here tonight to make sure she wasn't angry with him anymore. But that couldn't be. He was planning to do this in three days' time no matter what. What was the difference if he sped it up by three days? There couldn't be one. He wanted this as much on Wednesday as he would on Saturday. There was no real point in waiting. Darry was an understanding guy; Lynnie was an understanding broad. They'd get it. They'd know Two-Bit wasn't trying to steal anyone's thunder. He stole a lot of things in his life, but he never wanted Darry's thunder to be one of them. It was a good idea to ask Laura on the 13 instead of the 16. The faster it happened, the better it would be.

They parked the car, and Two-Bit asked Laura if she wanted to get out of the car. Slowly, she turned her head to face him. She looked him in the eye, and her expression was icy. Two-Bit hated it when Laura got icy. It always made him feel like he was eight years old.

"No," she said.

"C'mon," he said. "I've always said it's more fun to watch a movie when you're standin' up than when you're sittin' down."

Laura stared at him with even icier eyes.

"OK, so I've never said that," he said. "But now, I'm gonna start so I didn't just tell you a total lie. C'mon. Let's get outta the car."

"What movie are we seeing, anyway?" Laura asked.

"Get outta the car, and I'll tell ya."

She sighed and got out of the car, but only because her curiosity got the better of her. Besides, if she didn't like the sound of the movie, she'd just hang out at the concessions all night. There was a girl working there who liked to talk to her sometimes when Two-Bit was working, too. She'd make the best of it.

"Will you tell me the name of the movie now?" Laura asked. "I was so damn mad at you that I forgot to check."

"Baby, if you were that mad at me, you wouldn't have left the house to go out on a date with me, would ya?"

Laura frowned. Two-Bit had a point.

"You're not answering my question," she asked.

"It's called _Equinox_," he said.

Laura made a face like she'd just been asked to suck on a lemon.

"What?" Two-Bit asked, off Laura's look.

"You're taking me to see a horror movie?" she asked. "You know I hate 'em!"

"Believe me, you ain't gonna care about the movie before long."

"Why? Because you took me here to make out? How _old _are you? This is not the behavior of a well-adjusted man in his twenties. I'm going to tell you that!"

"Well, I'm in my twenties, but I ain't well-adjusted. Thought you knew that."

Laura rolled her eyes. She was half a second away from darting down to the concessions, but there was something about Two-Bit's eyes that made her want to stay. There was always something about his eyes that told her to stay. It was like if she just kept looking into them long enough, she'd understand what it was. She'd understand him.

Didn't she understand him already?

She shook her head a little, trying not to worry. This didn't seem like the time.

"I can't believe you're taking me to see a horror movie," she said.

"We ain't here to watch the movie," Two-Bit insisted.

"Don't be that way! I'm twenty-two years old! I've got a college degree! I start teaching full time in the fall. It might have been good fun to drive down here to make out when I was still a student, but that chapter in my life is _over_."

"You graduated less than two weeks ago. Do things really gotta change that much?"

"Yeah! They really do! I'm not some free-spirited hippie, you know. I've got plans. I've got _career plans_. And what's going to happen when I go to work in the fall, and the other teachers find out I'm a twenty-two-year-old woman still living in her childhood bedroom without even a plan to …"

She stopped herself. It had been a long time since she and Two-Bit had discussed a plan for getting her out of her parents' house. After his laughing with Lilly the night before, she wasn't sure he actually wanted to help her with that. She swallowed hard and dug her heel into the dirt.

"I can't believe you took me to see a horror movie," she repeated.

"What's the matter with horror movies, anyhow?" Two-Bit asked.

"I don't know. I just don't like them. When I was kind of little, my dad took me to see _Dracula_ – you know, the one with Christopher Lee?"

"Yeah, I know that one. Christopher Lee. Handsome devil. Even better-lookin' than me."

Laura looked Two-Bit up and down, and he blushed a little, half embarrassed, half flattered that his girl still wanted to look at him like that.

"Yes," she said. "He's even better-looking than you. But I didn't like it. I didn't like how the girl in the nightgown wanted to bite that kid in the graveyard. I didn't like how Dracula could just come into your room and compel you to do whatever it was he wanted you to do. It scared me. Since then, I guess I've just painted all horror movies with the same brush."

"Well, paintin' everything with the same brush ain't always a bad idea," Two-Bit said. "D'you paint all folks from my side of town with the same brush?"

"Of course not."

"Really? Ya should. We're all garbage, including me. Especially me."

That got a laugh out of Laura (just like Two-Bit knew it would). She uncrossed her arms and walked closer to him.

"I'm sort of serious," she said. "I can't believe you took me to see a horror movie. I feel like we're always seeing movies that you want to see."

"That's not true!" Two-Bit said.

"Oh, really?"

"I sat through _The Boys in the Band_."

"You said it might help you to understand your sister better."

"I should've realized it wouldn't 'cause my sister ain't a man. Things are different for her. They're … oh, whadda you call it … _worse_."

Laura cracked something of a smile. It was one of her favorite things about Two-Bit. He was funny, but he knew how to love unlike anyone she'd ever met. He understood more than she'd initially given him credit. She loved him for that.

"Well, regardless," Laura said. "_The Boys in the Band _was one time. I've sat through a million Westerns and terrible beach movies for you."

"It wasn't about the movies," Two-Bit said. "I thought you knew that."

Laura's eyes shifted to the ground, and she felt a blush creep up on her cheeks. She dug her shoes into the dirt a little more. She was embarrassed, but she couldn't determine exactly why. After a few long seconds of gazing at the ground, she looked back up at Two-Bit, whose eyes never left her.

"So, if we're not here to watch a horror movie, and we're not here to make out like a couple of teenagers, what _are _we here to do?" she asked.

Two-Bit smiled like he was up to something, and Laura's heart leapt. She sure hoped he _was _up to something, after all.

"D'you remember our first date last summer?" he asked.

"Yeah," Laura said. "You took me here. We saw _The Wild Bunch _… your pick, another Western."

"I know. But it wasn't about the movie, was it? And it wasn't about makin' out with me, though back then, ya really didn't have many complaints …"

"I know I didn't. I still don't. But I was having a good time because of what you showed me with the popcorn, the candy, and the drink."

"What did I show you?"

Laura bit her lip. She felt like she knew where this was going, but she still wanted to be surprised. She kept her joy at bay.

"I was putting popcorn and chocolate in my mouth at the same time," Laura said. "I didn't even realize I was doing it until you said something. And then I got really embarrassed. No one was ever supposed to see me do that except for my family, and even they thought it was a little odd and really gross."

"I remember you sayin' that," Two-Bit said. "But do you remember what you said?"

Laura nodded.

"I said, 'I must be really comfortable around you already because no one's ever seen me eat like this before,'" she said. "And all you did was smile. You didn't even try to make a joke."

"I didn't, 'cause there was nothin' to joke about," Two-Bit said. "I loved your popcorn and chocolate combo. I thought it was genius. I told you I was gonna start doin' it myself."

"I remember."

"But then I showed you how _I _take my movie snacks."

"You did. You told me that it's best to eat your snacks in a circle. Bite of chocolate, bite of popcorn, sip of your drink, back to popcorn."

Two-Bit nodded as though this was old, sage wisdom (because for him, it really was).

"It's 'cause ya don't want to have too many sweet things in a row," he said. "That's why ya go back to popcorn."

"I think it's a great idea," Laura said.

"That's 'cause it is. Ain't no use in arguing against greatness."

He stepped closer to Laura, and she stood there firmly. Any anger she'd had earlier that night seemed to dissipate when she wasn't looking. She took a breath and wondered how much longer she'd have to wait.

"When you told me you were already comfortable around me, I don't know what happened to me," he said. "I'd never had a girl say somethin' like that in front of me before. I spent the past few years thinkin' … well, you know what I'd been thinkin'."

Laura nodded. She'd heard the story of October 1965 enough times before. She didn't need to hear it again.

"I thought I was broken, or a monster, or somethin'," he said. "But you didn't think of me that way. No matter what I said or what I did, you just never looked at me the way I was lookin' at myself. And I knew I kept wantin' to ask you around."

"So, you did."

Two-Bit nodded.

"So, I did," he said. "And the more I asked you around, the more I got to know you. You ain't just a real nice, real pretty girl who likes me. I mean, you are all those things, and I'm real glad about it. But it ain't all you are, and boy, am I ever glad about that. You're smart. You've always got a great comeback up your sleeve, like just a few minutes ago, when we were drivin' in here. You're always lookin' for the best in people, even when there's nothin' good to see. And I guess it didn't take too long for me to realize I don't wanna just … I don't wanna just walk around without you when there's a _you _out there to walk around with."

Laura covered her mouth with her hands, hating her melodramatic reaction to what she knew by now was about to happen, but not being able to control it no matter what she did. She tucked her hair behind her ear and fidgeted.

"Keep going," she laughed. "I like it when you say nice things about me."

"Are you sure you don't just want me to move it along?" Two-Bit asked.

"Oh, move it along!"

Two-Bit laughed. That was the Lubbock charm. He hit his pockets, unsure of which one the ring was in. Laura's mother had given it to him a few months earlier. Apparently, it was her grandmother's, and she wanted Laura to have it. She wasn't sure that was the custom, but given there wasn't any jewelry in Two-Bit's family (not like Mrs. Lubbock would say anything like that), she figured it was best that she give it to him.

He grabbed the ring and held it out in front of her. She covered her face with her hands again, well aware that she looked like a cliché but not upset enough about it to change her posture. He was grinning like an idiot, too, though Laura didn't see it that way. In that moment, all she could think was that she loved him, and his friends were right: He did look like Will Rogers with that grin.

"Hey, Laura," Two-Bit said. "You wanna marry me?"

Laura nodded until she thought her head would explode.

"Yeah," she said. "I think I do."

Two-Bit rushed up to her and slid the ring on her finger. He couldn't stop looking at her. He looked at her so long that he noticed she wasn't looking at him at all. Her eyes were lovingly locked on the ring.

* * *

While Sadie rocked Michael to sleep, Johnny sat in the living room with the radio on. It was that Guess Who song, "American Woman," and he was really glad Sadie wasn't out in the living room because she would have burst into tears. About two months earlier, when the song first came on the radio, she and Lucy decided it was their favorite song in the world because they hated it so much. It wasn't much of a story, but for the past few days, any time Johnny mentioned Lucy (or something that reminded Sadie of Lucy even a little bit), she'd start to get teary. He didn't want another night of Sadie crying. He wanted her to talk to Lucy, but that was the furthest thing from his business.

But, of course, it couldn't be a relaxing few minutes. That wasn't possible when you lived with your wife, your one-year-old son, and your younger sister. Lilly threw open the front door, coming in from her shift at Jay's. At the sound of the door, Johnny jumped.

"Dammit, Lilly," he said. "I thought after all those years of sneakin' around our folks' house, you'd learn not to open the door so loud."

"Oh, please," Lilly said as she kicked off her shoes (something she really shouldn't do after a long shift of waiting tables). "Mom and Dad fought so loud, I never needed to sneak out. They couldn't hear me over the sound of their own screams."

She moved toward the couch.

"Don't sit …" Johnny said, but as always, Lilly had no interest in listening to him. She plopped down next to him on the couch, and he sighed.

"Ya really shouldn't sit down this close to a guy after your shift," Johnny said. "At least, not without takin' a shower first."

"I can do what I want," Lilly said. "Besides, you ain't a guy. You're my brother."

"Yeah, yeah."

"And even if you were a guy – you know, in _that _way – I really wouldn't care how I smelled. I'm too pretty."

"You are."

"Is this you, practicing comfort in case you and Sadie have a daughter? 'Cause if it is, I wanna tell ya, from the bottom of my heart … you're doin' a pretty terrible job."

"Thanks, Lil."

"I'm serious. Here I am, in my hour of need …"

"Your hour of need? Lilly, what's going on?"

Lilly sighed and looked up at the ceiling. She wondered why people did that, including herself. It wasn't like the ceiling had answers written on it. For a second, she thought maybe she knew what it was, but she didn't have the energy to think about that on a Wednesday night after she waited on two tables that spilled entire saltshakers and left her to clean it all up. She turned her head to look at Johnny.

"What's my thing?" she asked.

"Your what?" Johnny asked.

"My thing. Like … what am I gonna do for the rest of my life? 'Cause I'll tell ya what. I ain't gonna clean up spilled saltshakers in my forties. I don't even wanna do it my thirties. Hella, I don't wanna do it tomorrow, but I gotta, thanks to careless, anonymous sex."

"Don't talk about yourself that way."

"I can talk about me that way. No one else can, but I can."

"Does that make sense?"

"It makes all the fuckin' sense in the world. You gotta trust me."

Johnny shrugged. It didn't make sense to him, but if it made sense to Lilly, that was good enough. It had to be good enough. He shrugged again, this time more to himself. Maybe she was right. Maybe he'd make a terrible father to a daughter. He turned to face Lilly a bit more and tried to engage.

"What're you askin' about?" he asked. "Do you mean you're wonderin' if you'll find another job?"

"Not really, no," Lilly said. "At least, that's not the big whole of it. The big whole of it is … I'm lookin' around, and it feels like everybody's got it all figured out. Lucy's goin' to graduate school so she can become a professor one day. Sadie works regular hours at the school office, and she's got you and Michael and whatever other kids y'all have. Katie's girlfriend, Blossom, she's gonna be an anthropologist, whatever that really means, but it sounds fuckin' tuff. Carrie's so smart she can do whatever the hell she wants when she graduates college. Jane … well, I dunno about Jane, but she's with Soda. It ain't much, but it's a start. But then … then there's me. And I'm just Lilly. Knocked up, alone, and without a calling."

Johnny wanted to ask his sister if he thought Sadie's secretarial job was a calling, with all her brains and talent, but he didn't. It didn't do much good to pit his wife and his sister against each other. In fact, it probably wouldn't do any good at all.

"Well, what do you wanna do?" Johnny asked.

"That's the thing," Lilly said. "I think that's the first time in my life anybody's ever asked me that question. What do I wanna do? How am I supposed to know? Nobody ever told me there were options. All I ever heard was get married or die starvin'. Now … well, now it don't look like that's gotta be the case."

"It don't. Not when you got me and Sadie to take care of you and the baby."

"But that's part of it, too. I don't want to have to depend on my brother and sister-in-law to do everything for me. I wanna do somethin' myself."

She thought about Lucy and how she was moving out to New York to prove what women were capable of for Elenore's sake. Lilly wouldn't have known it even a year earlier, but she wanted to do the same thing for her baby, whether or not her baby turned out to be a girl. Lucy was a tough broad – smart, too – but she was still a white girl from New Haven. People were more willing to take chances on a white girl from New Haven than they were to take chances on a girl from Tulsa who didn't know where she came from – only that she wasn't white like Lucy or Sadie or Laura Lubbock. But she didn't want to sit back and take that anymore. She wanted to show her kid that a woman who looked like Lilly Cade could be anything she wanted to be, too. The only problem was that no one ever asked Lilly what she wanted to be, so she never figured out an answer. She needed one, and it needed to be good.

"What am I good at, Johnny, man?" Lilly asked.

"Why're you askin' me?" Johnny asked. "You know what you're good at."

"Yeah, but I'm the worst judge of myself. Figure my brother can see me better than I see myself."

"Lilly …"

"What? Did I figure _wrong_?"

"It ain't that at all. It's that I'm scared I'm gonna say the wrong thing."

"You ain't gonna say the wrong thing. Just tell me. What do you think I'm like? What do you think I'm good at? What can I do with that?"

Johnny thought on it for a minute. First, he wondered whether or not he'd ever been asked that question: "What do you want to do?" He had been asked: once, during a mandatory guidance counselor meeting during his junior year of high school. It was right after he'd started going steady with Sadie, and the guidance counselor asked him, "What do you want to do?"

He hadn't been equipped to answer, though he didn't quite know why. A little while later, when he recounted the story to Sadie, she explained to him that there was something called "Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs." According to the chart she showed him, you needed food, water, and warmth before you could reach the top of the chart: self-actualization, where you decide what you want to be and then go be it. She didn't say that he couldn't answer the questions because he didn't have those things, but she didn't really need to. He already knew.

Sadie made straight _A_'s in high school psychology.

He thought about Lilly. She'd always had a little more than he did. Mrs. Mathews took her in; when Mrs. Mathews was at work, Mr. and Mrs. Curtis would look after her. Once Lucy and her folks moved to Tulsa, and Lucy took a real shine to Lilly, the Bennets made room for her at their place, too. All of those people probably would have looked after Johnny, too, but he didn't let them. In retrospect, it was a little foolish of him to try to martyr himself like that, but he didn't know that was what he was doing. He was young and dumb enough to believe that his presence was enough to keep them from killing each other. He wanted them alive. He still wanted them alive, even though his old man's body had been thrown into the incinerator shortly after Michael was born. It bothered him that he didn't know exactly when his father had died.

But Lilly … she hadn't been burdened by their folks in the same way. It was true that he made sure people were always looking after her, but she was also just smarter than Johnny had ever been. She was quick on the uptake and much funnier than people realized. He couldn't believe she didn't realize it for herself. If she needed him to tell her, he would. He'd spent his whole life looking out for Lilly and making sure he could give her what she needed. He wasn't going to stop now.

"You can be anything ya want," Johnny said.

Lilly rolled her eyes.

"Oh, don't say _that_," she said. "Nobody can be _anything _they want. What if I said I wanted to be a Golden Retriever? What would you tell me then?"

"I would tell ya that's not within reason."

"Well, you didn't say 'within reason.'"

"Dammit, Lilly. I'm tryin' to help ya."

"Fine."

He looked at her and realized, for the first time in a long time, that she wasn't the same kid she used to be, either. In all his business since marrying Sadie and having Michael, he'd almost forgotten that Lilly was grown up, too.

"You're smarter than ya know," Johnny said. "You can see the same thing a million different ways at one time. I ain't met somebody who's better at gettin' out of a jam than you are, except for maybe Dally, and you know how smart he is."

Lilly nodded.

"So, what're ya sayin'?" she asked. "That I should do what Dally didn't do?"

"What didn't Dally do?" Johnny asked.

"Become a career criminal."

Johnny laughed a little. It had been so long since anyone thought Dally would become a career criminal that he almost forgot it used to be that way.

"Naw," he said. "I'm sayin' you'll find a way to be everybody's boss at somethin'."

"But what's the _somethin'_?" Lilly asked.

She wasn't thrilled when Johnny only shrugged.

"I dunno," he said. "I think you gotta figure that out on your own."

"How am I gonna figure that out 'f all I do is wait tables and clean up spilled saltshakers?"

"I dunno, but I know you will."

"My brother, the career optimist."

Johnny laughed a little. If only Lilly knew how much he wanted that to be true. Maybe Michael would find a way to be a professional optimist … and if not Michael, maybe his next kid. Johnny had a really good feeling about the next kid. The next kid, he thought, might be a lot like Lilly.

There was a knock on the door, and Johnny jumped a little when he heard it. It was still one of the hardest sounds for him to hear. Lilly, of course, was much braver. She got up from the couch and went straight to the peephole.

"Who is it?" she asked.

"Lilly, I saw you look through the peephole. Let me in, would ya?"

Johnny relaxed a little. It was just Katie.

"For you, Kate? Anything," Lilly said and unlocked the door. She furrowed her brow when she saw that Katie looked uncomfortable.

"What's the matter?" Lilly asked. "Ya look like ya saw a ghost."

"No ghosts here," Katie said. "Blossom would love that, though. She's real into that kinda supernatural stuff. She wrote her undergraduate thesis on ghost stories 'n folklore."

She paused.

"Did I just say the words 'undergraduate thesis?'" she asked.

Lilly nodded.

"Damn. Never would've thought."

Johnny stood up, suddenly just as concerned as Lilly already was. It wasn't like Katie to knock on people's doors late at night with consternated looks on her face. That was more of a Lilly thing, and Lilly was already indoors.

"What's the matter, Katie?" he asked. "You're startin' to scare me."

"Sorry," she said. "I just … I need to talk to Lilly."

"About what?" Lilly asked.

She sounded scared, and Johnny's hands involuntarily turned to fists. He hated it when Lilly sounded scared.

"Two-Bit just came home," Katie said. "He was with Laura. They were lookin' for my mom, but she's still workin'. They said they were too happy to wait for her to get back, so they wanted to tell me first."

Lilly closed her eyes. She knew what was coming next, but she wanted to pretend like she didn't. She also wanted to pretend like it didn't sting. She could do anything she wanted to do. She was Lilly Cade, and that meant something. It meant a lot of things. Why did this hurt so much if she knew better than to let it hurt?

"What did he want to tell you?" she asked.

Katie looked at Lilly with eyes caught between sadness and joy.

"They're gettin' married, Lil," Katie said. "He proposed tonight."

Lilly nodded. It was slow. She thought, maybe, if she nodded slowly, then something would change. She didn't think Two-Bit's engagement would change, but she thought perhaps _she _would. Maybe, if she just spent the rest of the night in the middle of that nod, she would stop caring. Maybe she'd stop loving him – stop feeling like that awkward fifteen-year-old girl who'd blushed too long and too deeply the first time he kissed her. Maybe she'd grow up and get over it. Maybe all that could really happen if she just kept nodding.

But when her chin hit her collar, she still felt the same.

* * *

"You really don't have to go," Steve said.

Violet shook her head as she pulled her shirt over her head.

"Naw, I do," she said. "We've been pushin' our luck a lot the past few days. I don't really feel like gettin' caught."

"Who's gonna catch us?" Steve asked. "Evie don't live here, and it ain't like my folks give a damn what I do in my bed."

"Ain't that simple, man."

"But why?"

Violet turned around and looked Steve in the eye. It made her feel stupid to do that. The longer she looked directly at him, the more she started to focus on his face and how much it had gotten her into trouble. His eyes were prettier now than they were before, when they were all just kids. She couldn't help but think they looked familiar, but she couldn't place where she'd seen them before she'd seen them on Steve. They were great eyes. It wasn't just that they were pretty, although even Violet (who hated to call things _pretty_, since _pretty _was such a weak word) couldn't deny that. No, Steve's eyes were hard. They were hard and clever and cocky. When Violet looked directly into Steve's eyes, she saw something she wanted to be. She saw something she would want to be close to, if she were the kind of girl who did that kind of thing. His eyes were enough to make her want to stay.

"'F I stick around, I'm afraid you're gonna want to stick to me," Violet said (and was immediately surprised by her own frankness).

Steve laughed, but Violet could tell it was all a sham.

"You don't really think that, do ya?" he asked.

Violet stared blankly at him, and he bowed his head. Since Violet didn't know what else to do, she got up from the bed and began to look for her shoes. She was getting closer and closer to walking out the door, and the closer she got, the more Steve realized he couldn't let her walk away. Not tonight, and not again.

"Violet, don't," he said.

His voice was sharp enough to cut the air. Violet froze in her tracks (something she didn't even know she was capable of) and slowly turned back around to face Steve one more time. When he looked at her, she couldn't stop looking at his eyes. They were just … pretty. Violet didn't know how to accept something pretty. She'd never even had the chance.

"Don't what?" she asked, determined to get the last word (and well aware that on that night, she might fail).

"C'mon, don't be that way," Steve said. "Don't _go_."

"I can't stay."

"Yeah, you fuckin' can. You can stay if ya want."

Violet rolled her eyes. She was too tired for more masculine bullshit, and she wasn't going to let Steve get away with it.

"Don't gimme that," she said. "You know that ain't how it works. Me and you … we're good for a couple of hours a night. That's it. We been seein' each other too many nights in a row. I'm sorry 'f that messed you up."

Normally, Steve would have bitten his tongue and refused to say anything to Violet. He typically preferred to defer to her lead and her feelings. But that night, he realized he couldn't do that anymore. He didn't want to do it anymore. And something told him Violet didn't want that either. It was the first time he'd ever heard the words _I'm sorry _come out of her mouth, and they were directed at _him_. Those weren't words that Violet Winston casually threw around. She knew better than to apologize for something sarcastically. If she was saying _I'm sorry _directly to Steve, then she meant it. And he wasn't going to let her get away with it.

"Cut the shit, Violet," he said.

She stared daggers at him, and he loved it.

"What did you say to me?" Violet asked.

"You fuckin' heard me. I said, 'Cut the shit.' Because I'm sick of this. I'm sick of this playin' out the same way every fuckin' night."

"In my defense, sometimes, it plays out this way in the afternoon."

"It don't fuckin' matter where the sun is when ya do it because you _always _do it! And I'm sick of it! I'm sick of fuckin' ya, listenin' to your problems without you askin' me about mine, and watchin' ya walk away at the end of it all like I didn't mean nothin' to ya. I'm sick of it, Violet, and I don't wanna do it anymore!"

Violet felt her heart drop below her knees. She'd only felt that way a few times in her life, and all of them were in front of Steve Randle. She wondered if he knew. By the look on his face – so resolved and so certain – she knew he did. It scared the shit out of her, but she swallowed hard and hoped she wasn't trembling. Violet Winston wasn't supposed to tremble. She was supposed to be stronger than that.

"What're you sayin'?" she asked. "You wanna break up? You wanna end whatever the fuck it is we're doin' here?"

"No, I don't," Steve said. "I wanna see you. I wanna see you all the fuckin' time. That's part of the fuckin' problem."

"I don't get it, man."

"Yeah, ya do, so stop actin' like Dally 'fore he married Lucy and start actin' like a real fuckin' person, would ya?"

Violet took a breath. She had to admit it. She dug it when Steve took charge. She hated that he wanted to take charge over her, but she dug that he could.

"Well, what's the point in wantin' me around?" she asked, trying to make sure her voice never once wobbled. "You ain't never … you ain't never gonna leave her, so why bother with me?"

Steve sighed.

"It ain't as simple as you or Evie, Evie or you," he said. "C'mon. You gotta know that."

"I only know it 'cause you keep sayin' it," Violet said. "But just so ya know, from where I stand, it all sounds like fuckin' bullshit."

"I know. It don't make sense to me, either. I'd be able to tell you a little bit more about that if ya stopped and let me talk about myself for a minute or somethin'."

Violet paused. She found herself overwhelmed with … with a feeling she couldn't quite name. All she knew was that she wanted Steve to know that she was listening now if she hadn't been listening before. He must have gotten the message because he just kept talking.

"You're the only person in the world who understands," he said.

"Understands what?" Violet asked.

Steve took a beat before he answered Violet's question.

"Why I'm so angry," he said.

Violet nodded curtly. Yes. She did understand.

"I didn't wanna hurt Evie," Steve said, not looking at Violet anymore. "When I woke up chokin' her, it wasn't … it wasn't her. And that didn't make sense to anybody. It didn't make sense to Soda, even though I thought it would. Guess not even fuckin' Vietnam can turn Soda into a monster."

"You ain't a monster," Violet said. "Monsters ain't real."

Steve looked at Violet like he knew exactly what she meant.

"Well, havin' that on my mind made me think I was," he said. "Still kinda feel that way. But not when I'm with you."

Violet tried to keep her heart rate down, but it wasn't any use. She was fluttering just like she never wanted to.

"You don't gotta say that," she said.

"But I do, 'cause I mean it," Steve said. "Before me and you started up, I didn't think there was anybody in the world who wanted to look at me. Like there ain't nobody left who thought I got a side in the story. But you wanna look at me, don't ya? You wanna hear my side?"

"I ain't really a big fan of you chokin' your girl. But I know why ya did it."

"She wasn't Evie, Violet. I wasn't me. Well, I was, but I wasn't the _me _she'd always known. But I am, too. I don't know who I'm supposed to be anymore, but I know everybody wants me to have it all figured out. Except you. You're just … you just wanna listen."

"I ain't no good listener."

"No, you are."

Violet couldn't help but turn an awkward shade of red.

"I know I just told ya that ya don't listen to me," Steve said. "And that ain't all the way true. You listen when I need ya to listen, but it's always about how I'm angry. You wanna hear about how sometimes, I just wanna jump outta my skin and be … I dunno, somebody who's not me anymore. You've seen me get real mad, and you ain't gotten scared a bit."

Violet shrugged.

"It ain't like it's new to me," she said, surprised by the thick hoarseness of her voice. "I don't think I ever saw somebody who wasn't real mad when I was a kid."

"Yeah, me neither. But you're always there for that. You're always there to listen to the real hard stuff 'cause it ain't hard for you."

"I've always seen worse."

"Yeah, I know. Could ya shut up and stop provin' my point?"

"Depends. What's your point?"

"That you listen to the hard shit, but you ain't never quiet enough to listen to me talk about how I feel about you."

Violet closed her eyes to keep them from falling out of her head. It was an odd phrase – _the way I feel about you_. She'd never heard it attached to herself before. She never figured she would. People only said _the way I feel about you _when they were talking about being in love, and no one would ever be in love with her. She was off-putting. She was violent. She was …

_Ruined_.

She cleared her throat before she spoke.

"Well, go on, if you're gonna," she said. "Otherwise, man, I'm outta here."

"I can't leave Evie 'cause I don't know what that'd mean," he said (more like blurted).

Violet snorted. She was so hoping he would say something stupid like that. It would make it so much easier to head for the door if he did.

"What does that mean?" she asked. "'Cause it sounds like fuckin' bullshit."

"It might be," Steve said. "I dunno. But you gotta see it the way I see it. I been with Evie since I was a kid. Since you and Jane was still friends. That's how long."

Violet bit her lip, though not in a way that would suggest embarrassment. If only he knew.

"It's … I dunno, it's easy," he said. "And I know that sounds like shit. Believe me, man, I fuckin' know it. But I don't even gotta think when I'm with her. And I dunno. Sometimes it hurts to think."

"Sign of stupidity," Violet said. "I didn't think you were so stupid."

"_Violet_."

"What?"

"I don't know! I don't know what I'm supposed to be like anymore. What I know is that … what I know is that Evie's the last thing from before I shipped out that I can really hold on to. Feels like she's the last thing 'round here who hasn't really changed."

"I've never changed. I've always been Violet – too violent for her own good."

"That ain't … look, that ain't the point."

"Then what _is_?"

Steve sighed. He'd never really thought about how hard it was to articulate what he'd been thinking and feeling all this time. He knew what it sounded like in his head. He was in love with two women. One woman connected him to his past, when he was just a tough kid on the East Side, who worked at the DX and could knot a cherry stem in his mouth. But the other looked at him for the man he'd become – the man who had no choice but to change and to look at the world with a hardened gaze. Where everyone else in his life was so concerned with getting him back to the way he used to be, she was there to accept and embrace the fact that he had to be different. She didn't want to change him back. She wanted him the way he was now.

But how did Steve want himself? There were those moments he just wanted to be the same tough kid he was before Vietnam. There were those moments he looked at Evie and he felt like he might be crawling back into that younger skin. Those moments, of course, were fleeting and few and far between. But they made him feel _good_. They made him feel almost _happy_. With Violet, things were rarely (if ever) happy. They were rarely happy, but they were always real and honest and made him feel like someone was seeing him for who he was. She saw him for who he was, and she wasn't afraid of it. And how could she be? She saw it in herself, too.

He couldn't breathe any of those complicated words in front of Violet. She would almost surely laugh him out of the room, and it was _his _room. He looked right into her eyes and remembered what she'd asked him. What was the point? Why did he need her to listen to the way he felt about her?

And then, he knew. It came out of him without thinking because if he thought about it, he would never make it happen.

"I love you, Violet," he said.

Violet stepped backward and felt for the doorknob. She probably could have found it, too, but there was a part of her that didn't want to find it. She wanted to stick around. She wanted to see how this was going to end.

Steve was looking at her with those vulnerable eyes again. They looked so familiar, but Violet still couldn't place them. She wanted him to _stop looking at her like that. _She wasn't the kind of girl who deserved looks like that. She was the kind of girl who endured unwanted touches on her face and who stole makeup from the drugstore to cover up the bruises she got after one of the old man's poker nights ("Poke her" nights, as his pals liked to call them when they thought she couldn't hear – or maybe they knew she could, and that was the draw).

Violet Winston certainly wasn't the kind of girl who heard _I love you _from somebody else's mouth. She'd never even told it to herself (not like that would have been true, anyway). She knew she wasn't like a lot of other folks who'd been through similar _trauma_, as her sister-in-law liked to call it. She'd never believed she was lovable for any stretch of time, only to slowly decide that she must not be lovable after all. No, for Violet, it was that she _never _thought she was lovable. And how could she have ever believed differently? Steve Randle was the first person to tell her he loved her, and she was almost twenty-one years old.

She looked up at Steve again and saw that he looked embarrassed. _Good_, she thought. _It'll teach him a lesson_. But the more she looked at him, the more she realized she didn't want him to feel embarrassed at all. She didn't know what she wanted him to feel, but she didn't want him to be embarrassed. Violet assumed no one would ever love her. That didn't mean she didn't have secret dreams where someone did.

She wanted to say something, but she didn't have to. Steve decided to dig an even deeper hole for himself.

"Do you love me?" he asked.

His voice was smaller than he'd ever heard it before. Violet gulped, wondering what to say. She could lie. She could tell him she didn't love him. But then, of course, that wouldn't have _exactly _been a lie. Violet had no idea whether or not she loved Steve because she didn't know whether or not she loved anyone. She wasn't like Dally. She hadn't grown up around the Curtises and the Mathewses like he did. She hadn't found "her Lucy" at the juncture in her life when perhaps she most needed one. Dally knew how to love, even if he didn't want to admit it because admitting it was the first step to losing it. Violet didn't have a clue.

She looked at Steve, and the expression on her face must have been horrible, because Steve looked like he might burst into tears. Violet felt her entire body tense up when she saw that look on his face. She wanted him to stop it. She didn't like to think about Steve in any pain.

"I gotta go," she said.

And before he could ask her to stay, she was on her way.

She ran out the door and onto the porch, trying her best not to think about what Steve had just said in front of her – _to her_. She wasn't ready to deal with that. She didn't have the skills. As it turned out, she didn't have to think about it at all. When she stepped onto the porch, she ran right into a woman trying to walk up the steps. Violet lifted her head, saw who it was, and smirked. That was good. She was Violet again. She looked directly into the woman's eyes and noticed that they looked all too familiar, but she wasn't sure where she knew them from.

"Jane Randle," she said.

"That ain't my name no more," Jane said. "I'm Jane Curtis."

"Lucky you, after all this time."

"Don't make me throw you against the door."

"Would you, please? I'd be real interested."

Jane rolled her eyes, and Violet watched them. They were so blue. So …

_Steve's_.

Could Violet have chosen Steve because of…?

She shook her head. Her friendship with Jane had been over for too many years. Both of them were well past it. Jane was married to Sodapop Curtis, just as she'd dreamt about when she was in junior high, and Violet was alive, which was all she'd really hoped for when she was that age, too. They didn't need each other. They certainly weren't picking their bedfellows based on what they remembered or missed in each other – not that Violet missed a damn thing about Jane.

"What do you think you're doin' here, anyway?" Jane asked.

"I could ask you the same thing, man," Violet said.

"I used to live here. My brother still does. I got a right to see him."

"And here I thought you'd be too busy in Curtis Town to find your way out."

"Shut up, Violet."

"I'm not interested, so I won't."

Jane looked Violet up and down and wondered if her guesses about Violet from when they were just fourteen were, perhaps, correct. She'd always known Violet better than Violet knew herself. She remembered the argument that ended their friendship. In fact, she thought about it everyday, even if she kept it a secret from everybody else she knew. Violet became angry with Jane because Jane saw right through her façade. There was nothing Violet loved more than that façade. Jane used to think that maybe one day, their friendship would mean more to Violet than looking tough ever could, but she was kidding herself. She'd just have to stand off to the side, smiling coyly when she saw Violet, knowing that she'd be able to read her like a book for as long as they lived. As they stood on the porch of the Randle house that night, Jane knew she hadn't lost her touch, and Violet hadn't changed.

"'F you think you're gettin' in the way of my brother and Evie, you're wrong," Jane said. "He loves her. He'd never do anything to hurt her."

To Jane's surprise, Violet nodded.

"I know," Violet said. "He's a real good guy that way."

Jane furrowed her brow.

"You ain't gonna say somethin' sarcastic?" she asked. "Somethin' that turns my blood and makes me wanna punch you right in the gut?"

"First of all, I punched _you _in the gut, so let's get that straight," Violet said. "Second of all, no, I ain't gonna say nothin' sarcastic 'cause there ain't no point. Your brother … he's got his girl. Ain't nobody gonna get in the way of that."

"And you're gonna stand here and tell me you weren't here to try?"

But Violet only shrugged.

"What can I say?" she asked. "The guy can't be moved."

She looked down and noticed that Jane was carrying something. When Violet saw what it was, she smirked and looked back up at Jane with a coy expression. Jane was carrying a package of Chips Ahoy.

"Chips Ahoy," Violet remarked.

"There my favorite cookie," Jane said. "Steve's, too. You'd know that if ya paid a lick of attention to either of us."

"I thought you _didn't _want me to pay attention to Steve."

"Oh, please. I know you're lyin' to me. If you're fuckin' him, ya might as well take some time out of your schedule and get to know him."

Violet stuffed her hands into her pockets to keep from beating Jane into a pulp. It wasn't worth it. If Steve saw Violet beating the shit out of his sister for egging her on and slamming her ego, he would take back what he said before. And as much as it terrified Violet to have those words hanging in the air, it hurt her even more to think that he might stop meaning it.

_How did she know he meant it_?

She shook her head. It wasn't like it mattered. What mattered in that moment was Jane and how Violet could possibly get her off her back without force. She came up empty.

"I stole those cookies from you once," Violet said.

"I know," Jane said. "Consider this my way of stealin' them back."

"How do you know I ain't gonna steal 'em right now?"

"'Cause I know you. Always have."

"You don't know fuckin' shit, man. Never have."

Violet moved past Jane and walked off the porch. As she walked away from the Randle house, Jane yelled out for her again.

"I hate you!" she yelled. "I hate you!"

When Violet turned back around one last time, she almost smiled.

"That's real funny you hate me," she said. "All this time, I ain't never hated you."

It was the closest Violet would ever get to love, and both of them knew it as Violet walked away and toward nothing in particular. There was a part of Jane that wanted to scream at Violet to come back, but she knew she never would. She knew now that Violet had never hated her. As she stepped inside her old house, she thought maybe that was enough.

* * *

"I'm trying to decide which book I should bring on the drive," Lucy said as she, Dally, and Elenore walked back to Great Books from dinner with Esther and Jack.

"How about no book?" Dally asked.

"I have to bring a book. Those are the rules. The _court-mandated rules_, in case you've forgotten. I wouldn't be surprised if you had, of course. You were always forgetting the court-mandated rules."

"You ain't eighteen, so you don't need to listen to shit. But that ain't even what I meant, man."

"Then, by all means. What _did _you mean?"

"I meant that I know ya get car sick if ya read in the car. And I don't wanna clean up your fuckin' vomit while we drive all the way to the other side of the fuckin' country. That ain't how I want this to go."

"Have I ever cared about what _you _want?"

"Well, if ya haven't, ya better start."

Lucy rolled her eyes and then looked down at Elenore. She seemed blissfully unaware of her parents' innocuous squabble as she held onto both of their hands. The walk had been safe and normal until Elenore dropped both of her parents' hands and darted toward a figure she saw hanging out in front of Great Books.

"Elenore!" Lucy shouted as she raced to keep up with her three-year-old. "Elenore, don't go so fast! Mama can't see you when you run like this!"

"Sadie!" Elenore yelled. "Sadie! Sadie!"

Lucy wrinkled her nose as she got closer to Great Books. How could that have been possible? Two days earlier, she and Sadie had gotten into an embarrassing fight about Lucy's decision to keep secrets. That was too big a fight for Sadie to show up at Great Books in the dark so quickly thereafter.

But sure enough, Elenore was right. Sadie Curtis Cade stood in front of Great Books, waiting impatiently for Lucy to return, now with Elenore Winston strapped to her ankle.

"Sadie, Sadie, Sadie," Elenore said. "Don't leave again."

Sadie looked down at Elenore, not quite sure of how she should look at Lucy. She smiled at Elenore around her ankle, which made Lucy love her even more.

"I won't," she said. "I really won't."

"Really?"

Sadie's eyes darted upward and directly at Lucy, who was standing there, trying to look cool and keep a smile off her face. She couldn't help it, of course. Lucy was grinning from ear to ear. She didn't have very many other reactions when it came to seeing Sadie.

"Really," Sadie finally said.

"How do you plan to do that?"

Sadie took a deep breath, and on perfect cue, Elenore let go of her leg so that she could walk up closer to Lucy. Lucy stood there, almost shaking in her shoes.

"Well, for starters," Sadie said, "I'm going to tell you that what you did was wrong. You shouldn't have kept a secret as big as the day you're moving from me. Not if you really consider me your best friend."

"I do," Lucy said, not caring for a second whether or not she sounded desperate. "I always have. I know I made a shitty choice, but that doesn't mean you're not my best friend. I just … I just really want you to know that."

Sadie nodded.

"I understand it now," she said. "It's still shitty, and you're right about that. But I get why you did it. And even though I think you're off your rocker for trying to keep something this big and this important a secret from all of us, I know why you did it. It's fucking _hard _to leave a place with people you love. I've never done it, but I've watched it happen. It hurts like hell, and there's nothing we can do about it."

Lucy shook her head.

"But I get it now," Sadie continued. "And I've been thinking. There's going to be a lot more shit in the world. Johnny says I'm crazy, and there's going to be a lot more good, too. But I think _he's _the crazy one."

"He most definitely is," Lucy said. "Go on."

"There's going to be a lot more shit in the world. I don't want to make it through any of that shit without being able to call you or talk to you about it – whatever it is. You're my best friend. I don't want another one. I only ever want it to be you."

Lucy beamed as she ran at Sadie and swept her up into the biggest hug she'd ever given. Sadie was surprised when the embrace began, but as it wore on, she grinned and held Lucy back twice as hard.

"I'm so sorry, Sadie," Lucy said. "I know I should have told you the truth."

"Yeah," Sadie said. "And I'm sorry, too. I'm sorry if I made you feel like you couldn't be honest with me – like I'd fall apart if you told me the truth or something."

"And I'm sorry I underestimated you."

They held each other closer and tighter.

"I can't do this without you," Sadie said. "I don't want to."

"Me neither," Lucy said. "Let's just stay like this for awhile. Is that OK?"

"Yeah. It's OK."

* * *

**And there was that! I don't love a lot of scenes in this chapter, and I feel like I've sidelined too many characters for too long … so I have to fix that at some point. Expect more Katie content, more Carrie content, and more Lilly content … eventually. I promise I have ideas!**

**Hinton owns **_**The Outsiders**_**. I own a lot of cans of sparkling water.**


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